Quicksilver
by FallenNephilim
Summary: Angels are feared creatures; dark, evil beings who hate all humankind and swore to destroy them all. It's been three years since they arrived, and they're winning the war. But all is not as it seems, and not all angels are bad. AU Dean/Castiel
1. Sound and Fury

**So, this is a definite work in progress. I came up with the idea earlier and it just grew and grew and I ended up writing 3,000+ words for this story all at once - which is a big deal for me since I don't normally do that. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy!**_  
><em>

* * *

><p><em>You can hear it in the beat they march to,<em>

_And you can feel the earth shake when they start to dance._

_You can tell by the way they move you,_

_It's not murder; it's an act of faith._

Angels terrified them.

Sam and Dean heard reports all the time, of people dying from angel attacks. It had been nearly three years since the angels had come – all large wings and fiery swords and untamed power –and already they were feared and hated by all humans. Just one mention of one of the winged beasts had everyone cringing in terror.

At first, when the angels had arrived, the humans had been taken by surprise; off-balance and caught unawares. The attacks had been scattered in the beginning, but slowly they became more and more obvious until sightings were made and videos turned up all over the internet, bringing with them undeniable proof. Soon after the military retaliated and, though it had taken a while, they'd found out how to kill the angels with knives and swords that were soaked in the damned race's own blood.

But it was already to the point that angels were slowly growing in power and humans were diminishing in number, and every time Dean let himself think about it he could feel the fear bubbling up from where he'd hidden it deep, deep down inside him.

He'd been nineteen when they first appeared, and looking back on it that first year had been the most horrible, terrifying year of his life. Everything had been so normal before then, but just like that the angels had come and it had all gone to shit. Dean and his family had hidden, as so many others had, while politicians consulted and countries banded together and militaries searched for ways to kill them.

But hiding out in their houses was not enough.

They'd lived in a small town; a country town where everyone knew each other. These were the towns that were the most dangerous. Angels learned to stay away from the bigger cities where the humans could fight back in numbers greater than theirs. Now they stuck to the countryside, picking off the smaller towns one by one as their own ranks grew in size.

Dean's had been one such town.

The angels came one night, swift and terrible, and the townspeople had been totally unprepared. They'd had no chance to fight back as the angels killed and burned and tore lives and families apart. And amidst the chaos and blood and death the Winchester family had huddled in their house, terrified and praying for help.

But no help came.

A terrifying angel with raven-black wings and armor the color of a starless night had kicked down their door and had grabbed their mother, Mary, from her supposedly safe hiding spot in the corner. She'd screamed and cried and begged, but the angel had raised his sword anyway, prepared to kill her without a second thought.

Screaming Mary's name, John, their father, had leapt from his own hiding spot behind the couch, running at the angel with a gun in his hand and fire in his eyes. But it had not been enough. And Sam and Dean had heard it all from their hiding place in the closet.

They'd heard their father charge the angel, they'd heard the angel laugh as if mocking him, and – most horribly of all – they'd heard the sound their father made when the angel ran him through, and the scream their mother gave as she watched their father die.

Mary had died not long after.

And then, thinking the house to be empty, the angel had left, wicked laughter resounding in his wake as the door slammed closed behind him.

Sam had fled from the closet as soon as the cost was clear, falling to his knees beside his parents and sobbing over their corpses as he whispered _'no, no, no'. _Dean's reaction had been different. He'd hugged his younger brother, comforted him, and promised they would be okay, but his voice was flat and his eyes were dead.

He never shed a single tear.

The angels left the town soon after, having no more business there now that all the humans (or so they thought) had been killed, and the two brothers took it as a chance to escape. They got in their parents' car – a sleek '67 Chevy Impala – and then they drove and drove and drove, getting as far away from that little town in Kansas as they could.

And since then, neither had spoken of that day.

But things never went back to normal as Sam hoped they would. He thought that maybe with time they'd be able to move on, to keep living as their parents had wanted, but he'd been wrong, for after the happenings of that dreaded night Dean had grown hard and cold. He was no longer the carefree, fun-loving older brother he'd been before. And sometimes he scared Sam – though the younger Winchester would never admit it out loud.

He loved his brother, even if the look in Dean's eyes terrified him.

And so life continued on. But, even as Sam and Dean moved to Chicago – a larger city where they'd be safe – and got themselves jobs and an apartment and lives, things were never the same again. Dean's eyes were still dead, Sam was still too scared to ask him about it, and they never spoke of that day ever again.

X X X

"Hey, Dean!"

Dean straightened from where he'd been bent under the hood of a '07 Toyota Camry and saw his friend Anna trotting toward him. The redhead threw him a mischievous smirk, wiping oil on her dirty jeans, and leaned against the car.

"Hey, Anna," Dean replied, giving her a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. "What's up?"

"Nothing much, really. I was just wondering if you were doing anything tonight."

Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Anna had this nasty habit of _forgetting_ that he preferred guys and instead continued to come onto him. He didn't condemn her for it, though. In fact he actually liked it. Teasing like this allowed him to forget the hole in his chest, and fill it with goofy smiles and lame one-liners.

That only lasted for so long, though.

"I'm busy tonight, Anna."

"Oh, I bet you are." She winked at him, "I saw that guy you were feeling up at the bar last night; he was quite a looker. You guys meeting up again tonight as well?"

"That's none of your business, sweetheart." Dean retorted playfully.

Anna grinned at him knowingly. It just so happened that she lived in the apartment right across the hall from the one Dean shared with Sam, thus giving her an inside look at their private lives that most people didn't get to see. And it was because of this little fact that they were such good friends, because Anna knew a lot about him – and his past – and yet still she stuck by his side.

It was something Dean would be forever grateful to her for.

"Did you see the news?" She asked suddenly, switching the subject randomly as she always did.

Dean shook his head, leaning back under the hood of the Camry. "No, why?"

"There was another attack."

"Where?" Dean gasped, that familiar tightening in his chest taking hold.

"Indiana." Anna replied.

Dean went very still. "That's close." He murmured. _Too close._

"Yeah." She flicked a stray piece of fiery-red hair out of her face. "You don't need to worry, though. They won't come here."

"I know," Dean went back to his work, pretending the news didn't bother him. "_I know._"

That uneasy feeling stayed with him throughout the rest of the day, but no one noticed. No one ever noticed. Dean had gotten good at hiding his feelings behind a mask of fake smiles and dead laughter, good to the point that the only person able to penetrate that façade anymore was Sam. But if anyone had bothered to look close enough they would've been able to see the truth clearly.

Dean was worried.

He clocked out of work on the dot and hurried home, feeling anxious to get there. He fumbled with the keys as he reached his door, nearly dropping them before he finally got them in the lock. And by the time he barged into the apartment he was flushed and breathing hard, exorcising all his willpower available in order not to scream for his little brother.

Instead, assuaging all his earlier fears, Sam was sitting right there in the living room, asleep in front of the TV.

Dean sighed heavily, knowing now that he'd had no reason to worry. They were safe here, in the city. And besides, that attack had been an entire state over. Sure, it was a bit closer than he would've liked, but it didn't matter. The angels would never come here. They knew better. So, it was with a light heart that Dean went to bed, able to get a good night's sleep with the knowledge that they were safe. That _Sam_ was safe.

But the next morning all of that changed.

Dean woke up to find Sam on the couch, staring at the TV with an expression of horror on his face, and when he moved to ask his younger brother what was wrong Sam merely shook his head and pointed at the screen, obviously wanting Dean to pay attention to whatever was on. Sam had it on the local news channel, and it looked as if they were saying something about the weather. Dean frowned, wondering what was so horrible about that, but then the newscaster switched back to the main story.

And suddenly Dean understood.

"_And now back to our main story,"_ the newscaster – a petite brunette with pretty blue eyes – said. _"Reports of angel attacks in the state of Indiana reached our ears yesterday. But, if that wasn't startling enough, there's been another attack closer to home. The city of Evanston was hit just last night with a wave of angels that left the place in ruins, and witness accounts tell of an innumerable amount of the winged beings instigating the attack. This news is troubling to everyone, and definitely raises some serious questions," _she paused to swallow thickly, and Dean suddenly noticed the beads of sweat on her forehead.

She was scared.

"_Where have those angels gone?" _She continued,_ "And – more importantly – where are they headed?"_

Sam shut the TV off then, obviously unable to listen to anymore, and gave Dean a look of pure fear. Dean saw the memories in his eyes then; terrible memories of large black wings, a flaming sword rending flesh and bone, and their parents' dying screams.

"_Shh_, Sammy, it's okay." Dean whispered, pulling his little brother into a hug, "We're safe here, alright? Chicago is a lot bigger than Evanston, Sammy. It's okay. I promise. _It's okay._"

Sam nodded, burying his face into Dean's shoulder as he struggled to hold back his tears. "I – I don't want to lose you."

"You won't." Dean said defiantly. "I'll never leave you. I'll always protect you, I promise."

Sam took a deep breath and pulled away, sniffling softly. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean nodded slowly, his heart breaking as he saw the fear still visible in Sam's eyes. "Look, today's Saturday, so we have nothing to do. Why don't we just have a stay at home day, huh? We can make Chicken Divan, your favorite, and watch movies and play games and stuff. How's that sound?"

Sam nodded, his face brightening. "Yeah, that sounds good."

And so it was. The two brothers stayed in all day, watching movies all morning. They ate a late breakfast, played a few board games, took naps on the sofa while some soap opera droned along on the TV screen, and woke up just in time to get started on dinner. However, as they made preparations for the Chicken Divan dish, Sam realized they were missing some of the most vital ingredients.

"There's a little grocery store just down the block," Dean said, "I'll go get what we need."

Sam looked a bit uneasy. "Dean . . ."

"Look, I'll only be gone a little while. Half an hour, tops. And if you want you can have Anna come over. I bet she'd like to join us for dinner and a movie, right?"

The younger Winchester nodded, looking more relaxed already. "Yeah, that's a good idea. I'll go get her."

"You do that," Dean said, grabbing his wallet on his way out. "I'll be right back."

It was a bit chilly outside. A light wind blew, scattering the trash that was inevitably strewn across the sidewalk – it _was _Chicago, after all – and Dean wrapped his jacket tighter around himself, hurrying down the street to the little store he'd mentioned before. He wanted to get home quickly and banish the anxiety creeping up on him with dinner and movies and good company.

The lady in the grocery store was all smiles and meaningless chatter. She talked too much as Dean simply returned her smile, his eyes flat, and got what he needed before hurrying back out, glad to be done.

The wind had picked up since he'd been outside, and it felt somehow darker, too. The streets were nearly empty, everyone too scared of the recent angel attacks to leave their homes at night, and the sky was devoid of stars, the cloud-cover making it impossible for them to shine through. Unease slid under Dean's skin, churning his stomach, and he felt his throat go dry. Something was wrong; he could feel it. But _what?_

Turning down the side street that led to his and Sam's apartment complex, Dean found his step quickening and he ducked his head, fingers gripping the bags he'd carried from the grocery store far too tightly; knuckles going white. His skin felt clammy and his palms were sweating, heartbeat speeding up to an unnatural pace, and he was sure he heard footsteps echoing on the pavement behind him.

But Dean was no coward.

Despite the terror racing through his veins he spun on his heel, dropping the groceries onto the sidewalk and facing the person approaching him with raised fists. He and Sam had both been trained in quite a few martial arts growing up – courtesy of their father – and Dean was very sure of himself when it came to fighting man-to-man.

But the person standing at the other end of the street was no man.

He had wings; impossibly wide, black-feathered, terrifyingly horrible _wings._ They stretched out behind him, dwarfing Dean in their shadow, and he stumbled backwards. Knees weak, sweat pouring down his back, he nearly fell, but caught himself just in time to find the angel just inches from him. A sword glinted in the light from a nearby streetlamp, shimmering with fire, and the angel's face stretched into a wicked grin.

Dean's breath got caught in his throat.

He had not seen an angel up close, not since the night his parents died, and he didn't know what to do. He just froze up, staring wide-eyed at the harbinger of death that stood before him while praying silently that it would not kill him. But why wouldn't it? Angels killed humans, humans killed angels; it had become the natural order of things.

_I'm so sorry, Sammy._

The angel raised his flaming sword over his head and Dean cringed, closing his eyes and turning his head away as if hoping it would somehow diminish the pain. Maybe he'd go quicker if he kept his eyes closed. It was the only thing he had left to hope for.

"_No!"_

Dean's eyes flew open just in time to see a flurry of white wings, and then the angel attacking him was thrown back as if by some powerful invisible force. Dean's knees buckled beneath him, shock and relief too much for his already stretched-thin nerves to handle, and it was all he could do to keep himself from falling unconscious.

He heard sounds of fighting; the clang of steel-on-steel as swords connected, the hiss of sparks as fire caught flesh, the wail of a wounded angel. His vision had gone blurry and he could hardly keep himself upright, but he struggled to do so, knowing it would mean life or death to stay awake.

Another pained cry – this one higher, _sharper – _then there was silence, and Dean was left breathing hard and trying not to black out. Despite his fuzzy vision, though, he knew for sure that there was someone walking toward him . . . someone with wings the color of fresh-fallen snow.

_Another angel._

"No . . . n-no . . ." Dean gasped, having trouble catching his breath and feeling pathetic as he scrambled away from the approaching figure. "Please, no . . . I can't die, please . . . I-I have to protect Sammy."

"Be still," a deep, gravelly voice replied, "I have not come to harm you, I am here to help. _We _are here to help."

Dean struggled to raise his head, to look up. He had no idea what was going on. That had definitely been an angel coming toward him, but no angel would ever say anything like that. Angels hated humans with a passion; they wanted them all dead.

It didn't make any sense.

"Rest," the voice continued. "You are overwhelmed; you'll understand when you wake."

Dean vaguely registered two fingers being pressed to his forehead, and though his initial reaction was to pull away and yell _don't fucking touch me_, he did nothing. It was as if his own mind had turned against him, and his body refused to listen. Instead he fell into darkness, swallowed up by it as one is swallowed by the ocean; vast and unending.

And Dean knew no more.


	2. Blood and Betrayal

Dean was swimming through darkness as thick as tar, hands splayed out in front of him, eyes desperately searching to make something out in the infinite blackness. There was no light here, no form; it was void. He floundered, fear bubbling up inside of him – such a familiar feeling – and treaded carefully, trying to calm himself down.

It would not do to get worked up now.

He decided to just start swimming in one direction, hopefully that would work. But as time went on and nothing changed – the scenery was just forever impenetrable, endless darkness – hope slipped from his fingers and he stopped swimming forward, letting himself just float along silently. He didn't want to swim anymore, not if it didn't even get him anywhere. He just wanted to sleep.

_Sleep . . ._

X X X

Consciousness returned. Dean's lips felt chapped and his head was pounding, echoing inside his skull. He groaned softly, trying to open his eyes, and suddenly became extremely aware of every sensation around him; the rasp of sheets against his skin, the cool air of the room he was in, the beating of his heart through his veins.

_Ba-dum . . . ba-dum . . . ba-dum . . ._

Anxiety covered him like a blanket, smothering him. He struggled to open his eyes as memories resurfaced from the darkness he'd been drowning in; memories of an angel approaching him, _speaking _to him. But, if that was true – if he really had come in contact with an angel – then why wasn't he dead? That question swirled around in his mind, bothering him, and he again struggled to open his eyes. They were heavy, far too heavy for it to be normal, and it struck him as odd.

Had he been drugged?

Finally Dean pulled through; managing to force them open with pure willpower alone. But this wasn't exactly good, for the first thing he saw was a dark-haired man with brilliant blue eyes leaning over him.

A man with _wings._

Dean stiffened, tried to cry out, but a gag in his mouth prevented that. As he slowly regained his awareness he noticed the ropes that had tied him down to the bed and he struggled, his heart pounding against his ribs.

_Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum._

The angel, noticing that he was awake, leaned closer to him, putting their faces mere inches away, and raised a finger to his lips.

"_Shh_," the angel said gently, "There is nothing to fear. I will not harm you."

Dean stared at the angel, terrified beyond all reason, and fought back the hopelessness clawing at his insides. He was tied to a bed, helpless, defenseless, and perfectly vulnerable; he knew that he was going to die. And this angel – this stunningly beautiful creature – was going to kill him.

He whimpered through the gag in his mouth, wishing that the angel would just get it over with. Inevitably his thoughts flew back to Sam for – now that Dean thought about it – he must've been gone for hours, though he had no knowledge of what time it actually was. Sam was probably worried to death, and it sickened Dean to realize that his little brother would never know what happened to him.

"My name is Castiel," the angel said suddenly. "And you . . . you're Dean Winchester, correct?"

Dean swallowed hard, wondering what game the angel – _Castiel –_ was playing, and did not move or attempt to respond.

Castiel tilted his head to the side, violent blue eyes burning with confusion. Dean stared back, breath catching in his throat, and tensed when the angel leaned closer to him and reached behind his head. But, rather than attacking him as Dean had expected, Castiel instead undid the gag, pulling it away so he could speak.

"_Fuck you!_" Dean snarled as soon as he was able.

Despite the exclamation, Castiel merely sighed. "Your reaction is not surprising."

"Oh?" Dean countered sarcastically, body humming with adrenaline-fueled terror. "Maybe it's because your motherfucking race is intent on destroying each and every last one of us!"

Suddenly – surprisingly – Castiel looked ashamed. "We tried," he murmured, "But we could not stop them."

Dean blinked, taken completely off-guard, and stared at him, wondering what he was talking about.

"We wanted to be friends with you," Castiel continued, "To be your source of hope and comfort. But then the Fallen rebelled and were cast out, and since then nothing has been the same." His cerulean blue eyes caught Dean's, taking his breath away, and the angel gripped his shoulders desperately. "Please, Dean Winchester, believe me when I say that never wanted any of this to happen."

"I . . . I don't understand." Dean gasped.

Castiel's shoulder slumped. "I suppose you wouldn't. It _has_ been three years, after all. And I . . . I hear that's a long time for humans."

Dean struggled to grasp hold of what Castiel was saying and make sense of it. But there were gaps there, noticeable flaws in the angel's explanation as if he was unused to speaking English. And so, unsure, wary, and still quite terrified, Dean swallowed his inhibitions in an attempt to at least understand what was going on.

"What – what are you trying to tell me?" He asked shakily.

_And why do I care?_

Castiel fell silent, his eyes strangely hard and brooding. Then suddenly he shifted and pulled a knife from his coat pocket, turning toward Dean who flinched violently in response, expecting the worst.

"N-no, _don't -!_"

"Be calm, Dean Winchester." The angel said, cutting him off. "I am one of the Righteous. I will not harm you, on my word."

"Y-yeah? Well no offense, but I don't really trust angels – much less their promises."

Castiel nodded, "Again, I am not surprised by this. But I have not hurt you yet, have I?" He leaned forward again, ignoring the way Dean flinched as he raised the knife, and without warning cut the bonds keeping the human pinned to the bed.

Dean stared at him, dumbfounded. "None of this makes any fucking sense . . ."

Castiel suddenly got to his feet, his wings fluttering behind him in a manner that seemed almost agitated. "I don't have time to explain everything now," the angel said. "I've already been here too long."

Dean, still sort of in shock, could only stare at him. "Wh-what?"

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more." Castiel said, turning back to face Dean. "But this will have to do for now. I can only leave you with this – watch your back, Dean Winchester."

About to ask what that meant and what Castiel was talking about and why he was still alive and what the _hell _was going on, Dean opened his mouth, prepared to let the floodgates go, but Castiel was quicker. The angel pressed two fingers to his forehead once more, and suddenly Dean found himself standing in the alleyway adjacent his apartment complex.

It looked exactly the same as always, and when Dean checked his watch he saw with a start that it had been mere minutes – _minutes _– since he'd left the apartment to go get the ingredients for dinner.

Dean stared at the face of his clock, as if willing it to tell the truth.

_What the hell . . ._

Unable to think of a word describing what he felt, Dean trudged up the stairs to his apartment, fishing for the keys he'd left in his coat pocket. When he finally opened the door and walked in he saw Sam and Anna, sitting on the couch together and watching TV as if everything was all hunky-dory, and suddenly he didn't know what to think anymore.

"Oh, Dean!" Sam waved as he saw his brother, "That was fast!"

Dean blinked. "It – it was?"

"Yeah, you were only gone a few minutes." Anna confirmed.

Sam jumped to his feet. "So, did you get everything we needed?"

Dean nodded and handed him the grocery bags wordlessly, watching as his younger brother bounded into the kitchen to prepare the Chicken Divan, and suddenly he felt as if he was floating; trapped in a surreal dream. Or maybe it was a nightmare. What kind of angel captured a human, spoke to them as kindly as Castiel had, and then let them go free without a scratch?

No angel he'd ever heard of.

"Dean?" Anna asked as she approached him, looking worried.

Dean gave her a smile. "What's up?"

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine."

She didn't really look like she believed him, ". . . If you say so."

The rest of the night was as normal as normal could get. Once dinner was ready they all sat down and watched a movie, and afterwards they finished off the pie Dean had bought, talking and laughing through mouthfuls of delicious apple goodness. But, despite how real the moment was, Dean felt unattached, as if he was drifting slowly away from everything that normally kept him so calm and anchored.

A few minutes past midnight Anna returned to her apartment, giving them both a cheerful 'goodnight'. Sam went to bed not long after that, thanking Dean for the wonderful day. And Dean, in response, gave his younger brother his most genuine smile and shooed him off to sleep. Sam deserved it. Dean, however, knew that he would not be getting any sleep that night.

And, as predicted, sleep did not stick with him. For when he slept, he dreamed. And when he dreamed all he could dream _of _was an angel with white wings, eyes the color of a cloudless blue sky, and a sad smile that made his chest ache. But he'd never admit it to himself. Angels were evil. They were _bad, _no matter what, and he hated them. He'd even sworn to himself the night his parents died that he'd kill every last one of the winged bastards, and that includedCastiel.

_That included Castiel._

And for some reason, as Dean finally fell asleep, that lingering thought bothered him.

X X X

When Dean woke up the next morning he thought for a moment that the whole encounter the night before with the angel named Castiel was just a dream. After all, it was just too far-fetched. The idea of an angel who'd let him go without attempting to murder him was nice to think about, but entirely unrealistic, right?

It was just a dream. It _had _to be.

But his pathetic attempts at convincing himself of that were cut off as he suddenly heard a scream echo from the room beside him – _Sam's _room. At this realization Dean was out the door within moments and bursting headlong into his younger sibling's room, his adrenaline driven by the need to protect his brother and the instinct that dictated that need. With a double-barreled shotgun in hand, he planted himself firmly in the doorway, ready to take on whoever – or whatever – had dared to get near him or his younger brother.

"_Sam!"_


	3. Wind and Chaos

**Thank you guys so much for all the reviews! Like I said before, this is really a work in progress. It was just one of those spur-of-the-moment things (which was actually inspired by a song by _Puscifer_), but I'm really enjoying what I've written so far. So, yeah, and thanks again!**

* * *

><p>Sam felt as if something was wrong the moment he opened his eyes.<p>

He wasn't sure why; everything _seemed_ normal enough. The morning sun streamed in through the window, bathing the room in a soft, golden light. He was tangled in his comforter, as always, and the fan over his bed spun in lazy circles, blessing him with a cool breeze. So then why was he feeling so anxious?

Sighing, Sam pushed himself up onto his elbows, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The sun hit his bare chest, warming it, and he smiled, tilting his head back so as to give the sunlight better access.

"Sam Winchester."

Sam's eyes flew open and he sat up straighter, his hazel eyes frantically seeking out the owner of the speaker. But what he did not expect was to see was a man standing there just at the end of his bed, a man with wings.

_An angel . . ._

Sam's breath caught in his throat and he scrambled backwards, nearly falling off the bed in his fright as the angel advanced toward him. Unbidden, a strangled scream pushed itself up Sam's throat – startling even him with its volume – but the angel moved faster than he could see, clapping a hand over his mouth and cutting off the scream mid-way.

"I will not harm you." The angel murmured, "I am looking for your brother, Dean."

Sam's eyes widened; what did this angel want with Dean? He didn't know, but he doubted it was good. He needed to get free and warn his older brother, or if he could just reach the knife he always kept in his nightstand drawer . . .

He'd never told Dean about the knife; _his _knife. He'd gotten it one day in a pawn shop not far from their apartment after hearing about nearby angel attacks. It was one of those special knives soaked in angel blood – the only thing they knew of that could kill the beasts. But he could not get to it, not now with this angel pinning him to the mattress.

Tears sprang to his eyes. _I don't want to die, not like this._

Suddenly the door to his room flew open, and there stood Dean, holding a sawed-off shotgun, a look of rage upon his face.

"_Sam!"_

X X X

Dean froze at the sight before his eyes. The angel, Castiel, stood over his brother, holding him down so he could not escape, and Sam, pinned to the bed with tears in his eyes. But somehow this was not what startled Dean the most. No, it was the realization that came with the undeniable proof in front of him, for with this he knew without a doubt that the meeting with Castiel hadn't been a dream.

And that scared him half to death.

Upon seeing Dean, Castiel pulled away from his younger brother, releasing him. Sam was on his feet as soon as he was free and backed against the far wall, out of Castiel's line of sight. "Do it! Shoot him!" He yelled at Dean, despite knowing the shotgun would do little to an angel, except maybe slow it down a bit.

But when Dean looked at Castiel and saw those violent blue eyes staring at him – so full of hope and trust – he did something he never thought he'd ever do, especially in a situation like this.

He faltered.

"What are you waiting for?" Sam demanded, reaching for the drawer of his nightstand. "Do it, Dean! _Now!_"

Castiel ignored Sam and took a step toward Dean, wings fluttering excitedly as he folded them down against his back. "Listen, Dean. I can explain everything now."

Dean was about to lower his shotgun and do as Castiel asked, despite his instincts screaming at him to just kill the winged bastard, but then he caught a glimpse of Sam pulling a knife from his drawer and running at Castiel, obviously prepared to – literally – stab the angel in the back. And, though Dean had no idea where Sam had gotten it, he instinctively knew that the knife his little brother held was an angel-killing weapon.

"Sam, no!" He exclaimed, "Stop!"

Sam froze, staring at Dean in shock. "_Why?_"

Castiel turned, noticed the knife Sam held, and quickly shied away. "I already told you, I have not come here to harm you, Sam Winchester; neither you nor Dean. I just want to talk."

"Talk, my ass." Sam spit back.

"He's telling the truth, Sammy." Dean cut in.

Sam's mouth fell open, "How can you say that? He's an _angel_, Dean!"

"His_ name_ is _Castiel_."

The knife clattered to the ground with resound finality, and then Sam was staring at him in horror, disbelief scribbled between the lines on his forehead. "You . . . you _know_ him?"

Dean nodded, swallowing hard. "We met last night, actually."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"I thought it was a dream, okay?" Dean turned toward Castiel, "I thought that there was no way in hell it could be real because – because that was _impossible_, especially after everything that's happened in the last three years."

"I am not like the others," Castiel said. "I have already told you this. I am one of the Righteous."

"Mind elaborating on that a bit?" Dean asked, ignoring Sam who was still staring at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"We used to be all one race – angels, protectors of humanity and keepers of Heaven." Castiel began, "But then all of that changed. Three years ago some of my brothers rebelled; they wanted to change Heaven, to use its powers to their advantage, and to enslave the humans rather than protect them. They are called the Fallen. But the ones who stayed true to Heaven – ones like me – they cast the Fallen out, condemning them for their betrayal. We are known as the Righteous, and we stay true to our duties as protectors of humanity and keepers of Heaven, as we should."

"That's all well and good," Dean said, "But if that's true, if you really are 'protectors of humanity' then where have you been for the last three fucking years? We've been _dying _down here, you know. Slaughtered by those Fallen bastards, and all the while you so-called Righteous angels have been doing what? Making pies and singing hymns?"

Castiel gave him a level glare, one full of so much steel and anger that Dean actually took an involuntary step back. "It was not our choice," the angel snapped, "We were trapped by the Fallen. They used an Enochian spell to keep the gates of Heaven locked; a spell so ancient and so powerful that it took us years to break it – _three_, to be exact."

Dean looked sheepish all of a sudden.

"Are you actually buying this?" Sam demanded. "He's an angel, Dean. We can't trust anything he says!"

"Why not?" Dean countered.

"Because an angel killed our parents, Dean! One of his own _kin _did the deed!"

Dean flinched as Sam broke the unspoken promise between them – to never speak of the night their parents died. It had been a sort of agreement after that horrible night, mostly because the memory in and of itself was painful enough without talking about it.

"Castiel didn't kill me." Dean said then, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "Or you. He let us both live without attempting to attack us in any way. He hasn't shown us an ounce of hostility, so why don't we at least give him the benefit of the doubt?"

Sam shook his head. "I can't let three years of fear and pain and angel raids go just like that, Dean."

"I know," Dean murmured, "Neither can I. But this guy is different, I'm telling you." He glanced at Castiel, noting the way the angel's eyes had softened back to the kind blue he'd had when they'd first met. "Something about him isn't like the other angels we've met."

"You mean the Fallen." Castiel corrected.

"Uh yeah, right – the Fallen."

"Sorry to interrupt." A new voice said behind Dean, who spun around to see another angel standing there – this one with spiked blonde hair and wings the same color as Castiel's; white as freshly-fallen snow.

"Dean!" Sam gasped.

Dean loaded his shotgun, but then Castiel was by his side, pushing the weapon away. "He is not an enemy." The angel murmured, "He's a friend; one of the Righteous."

Dean relaxed, but his jade-green eyes stayed wary of the newcomer.

"So, these are the ones you were talking about?" The other angel asked, wings folding down even as he approached Sam – who had kindly moved from the other side of the bed to stand by his brother – and Dean.

"Yes." Castiel said, looking a little embarrassed for some reason.

"Ah." The new angel offered them a sardonic smile, "I am Balthazar."

"Interesting name," Dean said.

"I could say the same to you, _Winchester_."

Dean made a face.

"Anyway, I'm not here for the humans." Balthazar said flippantly. "We have a problem, Cas."

Castiel stiffened. "What is it?"

"A raid just a few blocks away. The Fallen are attacking a group of high-school students."

"Then let's go." Castiel said.

"Wait!" Dean stepped forward. "We want to go with you!"

"We do?" Sam asked incredulously.

Dean nodded, "Come on, think about it. Seeing these guys save people – wouldn't that convince you that they're on our side?"

"Well . . ."

"Absolutely not," Balthazar said. "We don't need you tagging along; you'd just slow us down."

"Thanks." Dean said dryly.

Castiel held up a hand, "Balthazar, wait. I don't think that's such a bad idea."

Balthazar stared at him. "You can't be _serious_, Cas."

"I am." Castiel spared Sam and Dean an appraising glance, "This could be good . . . for _all_ of us."

Balthazar sighed and held up his hands in a gesture of acquiescence. "Fine, then. It's up to you."

Castiel turned back to Dean. "Are you sure about this?"

He nodded. "Let's go."

"Dean –" Sam began.

"Don't even start, Sammy. Just trust me on this, okay?"

Sam glared at him. "I don't like this."

"I recommend them bringing weapons." Balthazar interrupted. "I'm sure the Fallen will go for them immediately, especially when they see that they're with us."

"I agree." Castiel murmured, "But Sam, Dean, you should not bring those flimsy knives you call angel-killers."

"Well, they're the only things we have that can kill angels – er, Fallen." Dean said.

Castiel pulled two swords from beneath his coat and offered them up. "These are better." He murmured.

They were strange-looking things; about the size of a short sword each. Long and made out of pure silver with a hilt at one end, the blade was tapered off at the other, and all-in-all the weapon looked pretty wicked. Dean tested out his approvingly, spinning it through his fingers as Sam fingered the one he'd been given, his brow creased.

"Shall we go, then?" Balthazar asked. "We're wasting too much time already."

"Yes," Castiel agreed, grabbing Sam and Dean by their shoulders, "Let's."

And suddenly, without a sound or a word of warning, they were gone – the flutter of wing beats the only thing to attest to their departure. Then the room was silent again. The sun filtered in through the window, the fan spun round and round on its pre-programmed course, and all seemed to be as it should; so normal and unassuming.

But, in reality, something so significant had happened there moments before that it would be written about in history books centuries later. And it had only just begun.


	4. Thunder and Lightning

They appeared on a street several blocks away from Sam and Dean's apartment. Castiel and Balthazar already had their own swords out, their wings spread to their full length and their very skin seeming to crackle with power. Sam and Dean, however, stood there staring at each other and at the street around them with something like awe on their faces.

"That was awesome!" Dean exclaimed, sounding genuinely amazed. "Is this how you guys always get around? My skin feels all _tingly_."

"Focus," Castiel said shortly. "They're close."

A sudden scream permeated the air, demanding their attention, and Castiel and Balthazar – literally – flew into action. Hovering just a few feet off the ground, the Righteous sped down the street, Sam and Dean on their heels. They didn't have to go far, though, before they found a group of five or so teenagers huddled in an alleyway and cornered by three angels.

No, by three _Fallen._

Noticing Sam and Dean, one of the girls reached out for him, as if asking for help. Then she saw the two angels flanking him and the hope died in her eyes. Dean knew what she was thinking; five angels against seven humans? Even with the difference in numbers, she knew the angels would emerge the victors.

But, what she didn't know was that these two particular angels happened to be on their side.

"Hey!" Castiel called, catching the Fallen's attention.

Dean glanced at him and was momentarily distracted from the scene in front of him because Castiel . . . well, he was _glowing._ He stood there, illuminated with a holy light that seemed to seep from his very being, his pure-white wings spread out behind him, dwarfing everyone – even the three Fallen – with their size. Lighting flashed in the sky as thunder cracked, and a chaotic wind began to blow, whipping at their clothes and hair and sending debris swirling across the pavement.

"Back off," Castiel growled, his voice going an octave lower than usual. "_Now._"

The Fallen glanced at each other, suddenly seeming uncertain. But after a few moments they regained their composure. Two of them suddenly launched into the air, arcing toward Castiel and Balthazar before Sam and Dean could even blink. Then they collided, and lightning struck once more as the Fallen fought the Righteous.

Meanwhile, the third Fallen continued to advance on the group of frightened teenagers, grinning evilly as he brandished his weapon; a wickedly curved scimitar that caught the light of the nearby streetlight, bouncing uneven shadows off the walls and heightening the poor highschoolers' terror.

Gripping the sword that Castiel had given him, Dean motioned for Sam to follow as he crept up behind the Fallen. It was a male from what he could tell, and he had his back turned to the two brothers – too focused on his prey to pay attention to his surroundings. That was his first mistake.

Dean lunged, Sam right behind him, and slashed at the Fallen's left wing as Sam went for his right. The Fallen screamed in response, a terrible screeching wail that made the two want to drop to their knees and cover their ears. But they couldn't. They had a job to do. So instead they attacked again, this time going for the Fallen's torso. Dean stabbed it in the back, dealing a critical blow to its kidneys, and Sam somehow dodged beneath its flailing, wounded wings and stabbed it in the chest.

A direct hit to the heart.

The Fallen was dead instantly, crumpling to the ground in an unceremonious heap, and Sam gave the silver sword he held an appraising look. "These things are awesome," he said, grinning at Dean.

Dean nodded, "Right?"

Wondering if Castiel and Balthazar were still occupied with their Fallen opponents, Dean and Sam ushered the group of teenagers off, wanting to make sure they were safe and far away from that alleyway as soon as possible.

"I don't understand," one girl said though, resisting the urge to run in order to satisfy her curiosity, "Those two other angels – why didn't they kill us? Why didn't they kill _you_?"

Dean smiled. "Not all angels are bad." He murmured.

The girl stared at him, something akin to disbelief creasing the skin on the middle of her forehead, but in her eyes there was only wonder and a glint of something that looked vaguely like trust.

_Well, it's a start._ Dean thought.

Finally managing to get the group of teenagers out of dodge, Sam and Dean went back to see that Castiel and Balthazar were done – the bodies of two dead Fallen lying before them. The two Righteous were staring at each other, eyes narrowed as if they were communicating telepathically or something, and then just like that Balthazar disappeared before their eyes.

Dean sucked in a deep breath, still not entirely used to that. "Where did he go?"

"He has other business to take care of." Castiel said.

"That sounds vaguely ominous." Dean replied dryly.

Sam cleared his throat, drawing Dean and Castiel's attention to him. "Hey, listen, uh – I . . . I guess I owe you an apology, Castiel. I was wrong about you."

The angel's features softened and he smiled. "There is no need to apologize, I understand. If our roles were reversed I probably would've done the same." He looked down at his feet, "Three years of pain and suffering at the hands of my kin is hard to bypass."

"But it's possible," Dean interjected. "And I think we have a real shot of changing peoples' opinions and letting them know the truth about the Fallen and the Righteous." Suddenly, randomly, his thoughts flew to a certain red-haired friend of his and he grinned. "Hey, I wonder what Anna would say about this."

Sam nodded, "Yeah, me too. I always got this odd vibe from her when the angels were mentioned – like she wanted to believe that not all of them were bad."

"Anna?" Castiel queried. "Anna who?"

"Anna Milton – a good friend of ours," Dean clarified. "We've known her since we moved to this city."

Castiel looked nervous all of a sudden. "Describe her to me."

Dean hesitated for just a moment, thrown off by the strange request. But he trusted Castiel now, so there was no reason not to tell him. "Uh, she has red hair and green eyes; tall and skinny and the really stubborn sort of girl and all that. Why?"

Castiel had gone very still, and as Dean looked closer he realized that all the color had drained from the angel's face. "I have to go," Castiel said all of a sudden. "Keep watch, and I'll be in touch." Then he was gone, just like Balthazar had disappeared moments before.

Sam and Dean both sighed heavily. _Angels._ It was going to take a while for them to get used to that whole appearing and disappearing randomly thing. Dean wasn't really thinking too hard about that, though. He was focused on something else. Like why Castiel had reacted so strangely to Anna's name. Did he . . . did he _know_ her? No, that was impossible. Castiel said that he and the other Righteous had been trapped in Heaven for the last three years, so that couldn't be it.

_Unless he'd known her before._

"Dean," Sam's voice pulled him from his thoughts, "We should go. I hear sirens."

Realizing he was right, Dean slipped the silver sword Castiel had given him into his jacket, motioning for Sam to follow him down the street in the direction of their apartment.

"Friggin' angels," Dean grumbled. "At least they could've given us a ride back rather than make us walk there."

Sam grinned, "Come on, it's good for you. You're starting to look a little flabby."

"_You're _starting to look a little flabby . . . _flabby_." Dean retorted lamely.

Sam gave him a look. "Nice."

Despite the teasing, though, Dean still couldn't get the picture of Castiel's face paling at the mention of Anna's name out of his mind. He had no idea what, but something was definitely up. And he was going to figure it out even if it killed him.

X X X

The next day dawned clear and bright with no word from their winged friends.

_Ugh, Monday._ Dean hated Mondays. And after everything that had happened over the weekend – after learning the truth about the Fallen and the Righteous – going back to work felt like such a trivial thing to do that he wanted to tear his hair out at the roots. But, someone had to pay the rent. And the upside was that he'd get to see Anna. Maybe he could ask her about the angel thing then.

. . . Though he wasn't entirely sure how he'd get around to doing that.

_Hey, Anna. How're you doing? Oh, by the way, not all angels are bad. Also, do you happen to know one named Castiel? Okay, you have a good day, now._

Yeah, right.

At the very least, though, he could find out if Anna really believed that not all angels were bad as he and Sam suspected. It'd be a start. And, admittedly, a much better plan than just asking her outright.

The mechanic's joint where Dean worked wasn't exactly a five-star place, but it got the job done, the people were friendly, and the work was honest. In the end, that was what mattered. And today Dean was working on a real beauty, a '65 Ford Mustang Convertible complete with a V8 engine and automatic transmission. It was in amazing shape . . . except for the fact it needed new brake pads.

Besides that, though, it was _beautiful._

When he was done Dean got to his feet, wiping grease on the rag he'd jammed into the back pocket of his jeans and grinning as he surveyed his work. If he could keep this car, he totally would. Even though to him no car was better than his own '67 Chevy Impala, this one came in a close second.

"Hey, Dean!" Anna called, approaching him from her side of the garage, "Lunch time!"

"Awesome, I'm starved." Dean replied.

She smiled. "Same place as always?"

Dean nodded. They didn't always eat lunch together – mainly because they didn't always get their lunch breaks at the same time – but when they did they always ate at the same restaurant, a quaint little burger place just down the street whose bacon cheeseburgers were amazing (well, according to Dean.)

"Great!" Anna grinned, "Let's go!"

Nodding, Dean grabbed his wallet and shoved it into his pocket, following Anna as she turned to go. But when she did turn, showing Dean her back, he froze. She was wearing a tank top – as she always did when she worked – that was cut low in the back, showing off her curves. But that's not what Dean was looking at.

There, just between her shoulder blades, were two identical scars running diagonally down her back; perfectly parallel to each other. He'd never noticed them before and, for some reason he couldn't put his finger on, they terrified him.

"Anna, how – how did you get those?" He asked breathlessly.

She paused and glanced back at him. "What?"

"Those scars – the ones on your back . . ."

"Oh, those." Her expression darkened. "A childhood injury, that's all." She waved it off flippantly, loudly proclaiming that she was dying of hunger and urging Dean to hurry it up. But Dean couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something.

_A childhood injury, huh?_

Yeah, right.

X X X

Later that night after work – after Dean had repeatedly told Anna that he was _fine_ when she kept insisting that he was acting weird – the eldest Winchester found himself back at his apartment, alone. Sam wasn't home from work yet, so that meant he had the place all to himself for a while.

Glad for the peace and quiet, Dean grabbed a beer from the fridge and then settled down in front of the TV to do some channel surfing. There wasn't really anything good on, though, so he just ended up flicking to the news channel and letting it play out as he sipped gingerly at his drink. He felt so tired, as if the day had drained everything from him – the mystery behind the way Castiel had reacted the night before, those scars on Anna's back, it was all wrong.

But he couldn't understand _why_.

And it frustrated him to no end.

So, there he sat, watching the news and flinching every time he heard report of an angel – er, Fallen attack. He scolded himself for forgetting again because he really had to get used to calling them Fallen, not angels. According to Castiel, they weren't real angels anymore. They were abominations. And Dean doubted that the other Righteous would enjoy being grouped together with something they'd labeled an _abomination._

"Dean."

Dean nearly fell off the couch in fright, but recovered when he saw that it was only Castiel who'd spoken, standing there with his wings fluttering and his trench coat and his violent blue eyes watching him expectantly.

"Cas, _damn it_ . . ." Dean sighed, "You need to give me some sort of warning, or something. Before long I'm going to get a heart attack if you keep that up."

"My apologies," Castiel said, sounding genuinely sorry.

Dean shook his head, "Never mind. It's fine. Anyway, what do you want?"

"We have a problem." Castiel said softly, his voice dark. "I need to see Anna, _now._"


	5. Fire and Water

Dean stared at the angel, confused. "Why?" _Why would he want to see Anna?_

Castiel sighed heavily and fixed Dean with that hard stare of his. "Just . . . _trust me_, Dean. Please. I need to see her now, it is of great importance."

Dean held up his hands, "Alright, fine. Don't get your angel panties in a twist, I'll go get her. Just stay here, okay? I'll be right back." Making sure the angel was going to stay there and not wander out into the hall with him, Dean left his apartment and went across the hall, knocking on Anna's door and attempting to appear nonchalant when she answered.

"Oh, hey, Dean. What's up?" The redhead asked.

Dean scratched the back of his neck, "Oh, hi, Anna. Well, um Sam and I just wanted to know if you'd like to come over and have a few beers with us."

"Oh," Anna smiled, but her eyes held a glint of suspicion. "Sure."

Dean wasn't the best actor, and he knew it. But at least she was following him, and that was all mattered at the moment. He ushered her back into his and Sam's apartment, quickly sliding in and shutting the door behind him soon after, wanting to make sure she didn't try to run away the second she laid eyes on Castiel.

But, rather than scream when her eyes fell on the angel, instead she froze, staring at him in horror.

Castiel stared back. "You . . ." He gasped.

Suddenly Anna pulled out a sword – a silver one just like the ones Castiel and Balthazar had used – from who-knows-where and lunged at Castiel, face twisted in fury and a scream building on her lips as she tore through the air faster than Dean could see.

Castiel's blue eyes widened, a look of genuine surprise crossing over his face, then he sidestepped her attack as easily as one might swat at a fly. When Anna turned to swing another widely-arcing lunge Castiel intercepted it easily this time, catching her wrists and twisting hard enough to make her release the weapon with a sharp cry of pain. The sword clattered to the ground, but neither moved to pick it up.

"Anael," Castiel murmured, his eyes searching hers. "Is it really you?"

Anna tore away from him violently, rubbing her sore – and probably bruised – wrists. From the angle Dean saw her now it was like looking upon a stranger; her body tensed and ready for a fight, her eyes glowing with an inner light, her hair wild and seeming to be almost aflame. And suddenly Dean was afraid of her. She was like a completely different person; unstoppable, unyielding, and violent as fire.

And then there was Castiel, standing across from her. He was standing perfectly straight and stock-still, wings folded against his back, muscles relaxed, blue eyes clear of all emotion; the spitting image of a solider in-control of himself. And he was the exact opposite of Anna; calm, cool, and peaceful as water.

So it was the red of Anna's hair, aflame with anger, versus the violent blue of Castiel's eyes, awash with serenity; fire and water, clashing together in a brutal mix. Both stayed completely motionless for the spans of a few irregular heartbeats, and then Anna's anger dimmed noticeably and she straightened from her defensive posture, eyes still wary.

"What do you want, Castiel?" She murmured.

Dean was staring at them now as if he'd never seen either before, his eyes wide and shocked. "So you _do _know each other!" He gasped.

They ignored him.

"I've missed you," Castiel replied, eyes suddenly glistening with tears. "Where have you been? And why -?" He froze suddenly, horror replacing the joy on his face, and swallowed hard. "Anael . . . where are your wings?"

She stayed silent, obviously not wanting to answer.

Castiel wouldn't give up so easily. "Anael, where are you wings?" He repeated. "I've missed you so long – we all have – and now I've found you only to see that you are wingless. Did something happen? Was it one of the Fallen?" He took a step closer toward her, "Tell me their name and I will personally tear them to pieces."

Castiel's eyes were no longer calm as they were just moments earlier. Now they were blazing with a blue fire hot enough to burn any that get too close to him, and Dean wasn't reckless enough to want to move forward and test the accuracy of that analogy. Instead he stayed back, sort of pressed against the kitchen table in fear of some sort of angel death match going down in his living room if he so much as made a noise.

"It wasn't a Fallen who did this." Anna said, and her voice sounded different now, no longer angry. She sounded _ashamed_. "It was just – just after the war began," she murmured. "The Fallen were battling the Righteous, the bodies of my brothers and sisters lay scattered around my feet, and I could do nothing but watch. I couldn't stand it. I am not a soldier, Cas. I never was. So I . . . I left." She took a deep breath, steadying herself. "And I wanted to stay hidden. I didn't want any of my kind to ever know what I'd done or how cowardly I'd been, so I cut them off . . . by hand."

Castiel's eyes filled with a different kind of horror and his own wings fluttered anxiously as if he was trying to imagine what it felt like. "You . . . you cut off your wings?"

"I felt I had no other choice." Anna murmured, "And now I feel so empty without them."

"Anael . . ." Castiel moved forward, his eyes filling with tears once more, and gathered her in his arms, pulling her close. This time she didn't resist, instead she relaxed into the embrace, resting her head on Castiel's shoulder.

And now, rather than afraid, Dean just felt sort of uncomfortable.

Of course, right then was when Sam decided to come home, because he had such impeccable timing. He was even carrying groceries. But when he saw Anna standing there _hugging_ Castiel in the middle of their living room, the grocery bags he was holding slipped from his fingers, and Dean was pretty sure he heard something break.

"Uh . . ." Sam stared. "What'd I miss?"

X X X

"So, let me get this straight." Sam said for the umpteenth time. "You, Anna, used to be an angel, and your real name is Anael. But then when the war between the Fallen and the Righteous began you fled to earth, and you cut off your wings – which sounds really painful, by the way –"

"That's an understatement." Anna muttered.

" –And you've been hiding here in Chicago ever since, wanting to stay out of the way of the Fallen while also staying beneath the Righteous angel's radar, am I right?"

Castiel nodded. "Yes, that's correct."

"So . . . this is just some big family reunion now?" Dean challenged, seeming perturbed. "After all that running and hiding you did, Anna, you're just going to be all peachy with the Righteous again?"

"I missed my brothers and sisters terribly," Anna said in a small voice. "Imagine, Dean, if you were unwillingly separated from Sam for three years."

Dean's jaw tightened and he did not respond.

"Exactly," Anna said. "That was one of the biggest reasons I kept running and hiding, though. _Because_ I missed my family so much, and I knew that if they ever found me I'd run back to them without an ounce of hesitation and then I'd – I'd have to join the war." She shook her head, "As much as I hate the war and what the Fallen have done, they are still my family as well as the Righteous. I don't want to have to kill them."

Castiel's eyes were downcast. "There is no other choice," he murmured. "We've tried everything. The Fallen will not see reason."

"I know," She replied. "That's why, even though I don't want to kill them, I _will_ if I have to."

Castiel looked surprised at this, as did Sam and Dean, but Anna just smiled.

"Do you think I kept that sword with me all these years for nothing? It was protection should any of the Fallen attempt to attack me. I wasn't just running around blindly; I knew the risks."

Castiel managed a smile. "That's the Anael I know."

A sudden gust of wind blew through the apartment just then, nearly knocking Sam and Dean off their seats, and in the time it took them to regain their composure and wonder what had happened, Balthazar was standing there in the middle of their living room.

"Oh, it's you." Dean sighed.

Balthazar nodded, "Cas, we have a –" he froze suddenly, his face going pale as he saw Anna. He stared at her, his gray eyes wide and disbelieving, before he took a hesitant step forward. "_Anael?_" He gasped. "Is it – is it really _you?_"

She nodded. "Hello, Balthazar."

In a flash Balthazar had grabbed her, pulling her into a tight embrace as if he'd never let go. "I searched for you," He breathed, just barely holding it together. "I searched _everywhere_. I thought you were dead, I thought the Fallen had killed you. Where have you been? How could we not detect you?"

"Her wings," Castiel interjected suddenly. "She cut off her wings, Balthazar."

Balthazar looked horrified, and then deeply sorry. "Anael . . ." he murmured.

"I'm alright, Balthazar." Anna replied, "Honestly. But I've – I've missed you."

"And I, you." He replied.

"Sorry to interrupt the chick-flick moment," Dean quipped, "But didn't you come here for a reason?"

"Ah, yes." Balthazar recomposed himself and turned to Castiel. "There's a battle just a few miles away. The Fallen have our brothers outnumbered; we must go and help."

Dean was on his feet instantly, but Castiel was already standing and shaking his head. "No," the blue-eyed angel said firmly. "This is between Fallen and Righteous; you cannot come with us this time."

Dean began to protest, but Balthazar cut him off.

"Absolutely _not_," he said. "And I mean it this time."

Dean sighed and sat back down, obviously bummed at being left out.

Anna stood up next, her eyes blazing and her hair aflame once more. "I will come with you then."

"Anael –" Balthazar began.

"Listen to me," Anna interrupted. "I want to make up for the three years I was gone . . . the three years I let you do the fighting rather than help."

"Let her come." Castiel said suddenly. "We need all the help we can get, wingless angel or not."

Balthazar nodded, "If you so wish it."

"But I'll have to hitch a ride with you, Cas." Anna said. "My grace died along with my wings."

Castiel looked pained, but nonetheless he did as she asked and took her arm, and within moments they were gone, and the living room was empty once more of all but Sam and Dean. No one would've ever guessed that just moments before three angels – one minus the wings – had stood before them.

"Now what?" Sam wondered.

Dean shook his head. "I really thought we could help them . . ."

Sam put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It's alright, Dean. Really, it is." He insisted when Dean gave him a disbelieving look, "We can't always help them. After all, we're only human." He cracked a grin at his own joke and Dean rolled his eyes.

"That was lame."

"I know. But it cheered you up."

Dean's expression softened. "Thanks, Sammy."

"Of course." Sam got to his feet and stretched, heading to his bedroom. "So, want to watch a movie to pass the time?"

"Sure." Dean agreed easily. "Get whatever, I don't care as long as it's not some romance movie."

"Like I even own any of those," Sam retorted with a derisive snort as he disappeared into his room.

Dean sighed, staring straight ahead of him at the blank TV screen. He knew that in a fight versus the Fallen and the Righteous angels, he'd probably be more of a hindrance than an asset. But that didn't quell his desire to fight. He wanted to help so very badly, especially now that he knew the truth. But he had no idea how. He and Sam had barely been helpful at all in the fight against the Fallen who'd trapped those poor teenagers, and if they could hardly kill one Fallen between them, how could they expect to be a part of this war?

_"Dean!"_ Sam exclaimed suddenly, his voice panicked.

In an instant Dean was on his feet and rushing to his brother's side, quite ready to defend him if need be. But there was no danger. Instead there was someone lying on Sam's floor, a male, to be exact, with large wings the same pure white as Castiel's.

Now at this point you would've thought that the Winchester brothers would be used to random angels dropping in on them – as they'd made such a point of doing over the last few days – but in reality, the two were shocked beyond all words. In fact they just stood there a few moments, blinking stupidly at the unconscious angel on the floor.

But finally, Sam broke the silence.

"He's bleeding."

Dean looked closer and saw that it was true. This angel was beaten and bloody as if he'd been in some horrible fight. Even his wings drooped in defeat, the feathers seeming dull and lifeless, and his chest was just barely rising and falling with wheezing, shallow breaths, as if he was hardly alive.

"What should we do?" Sam gasped. "We can't just leave him here."

Dean's mind began to work at warp speed, desperately grasping at something – _anything_ – that they could do to help. "Here, let's get him on the bed."

Sam nodded, agreeing without protest, and between them they lifted the angel's small frame onto the bed, depositing him there gently so as not to hurt his wings. Then Sam ran off to get something to clean him up with, and Dean collapsed in a chair next to the bed, sighing heavily once more.

The angel looked, as mentioned before, like he'd been in some sort of extreme battle. And Dean had to wonder, was it the same battle Castiel, Balthazar, and Anna were in? What if this angel here was the only survivor? What if all the rest of them were dead?

_What if Castiel was dead?_

At this point, Dean had no way of knowing. All he could do was sit back and hope to hear word of the battle's outcome soon. But it bothered him, admittedly, that out of the three who'd gone into battle, Dean was the most worried about Castiel.


	6. Wrath and Discord

**So, as Ryohei-nya actually brought to my attention, I HAVE been updating this story basically every day since I started on it, haven't I? That's pretty awesome. But I didn't even notice. Mainly because this story is eating me alive D8 *cough* anyway, thank you guys again for all the reviews! I really enjoy hearing what you all think~ ^^**

* * *

><p>The air around them crackled with energy.<p>

Thunder claps seemed to accompany each strike, and the lightning arcing across the sky outlined the battle, throwing jagged shadows across the street. The roads were empty. Everyone was huddled safe in their houses, away from the vicious fight raging outside, and hoping that they'd be able to wait it out. No one had ever heard of angels fighting amongst themselves before.

Of course, this was different. This was between the Fallen and the Righteous.

"Balthazar!" Castiel yelled out, ducking under a swipe from the Fallen he was fighting just in time to see his brother dodge an attack that would've been fatal had it hit its mark. Balthazar turned to give him a grin and Castiel let himself be relieved for the spans of two seconds. He didn't want to watch any more of his family die at the hands of their own kin.

Suddenly sensing danger Castiel spun to face his attacker, but he was too slow. Pain spiked through his left leg and before he knew it he was on his knees, blood seeping from the wound in his thigh. He tilted his head back, blinking as the clouds above broke and rained moisture down on them, and saw the silhouette of the Fallen standing over him, sword raised to kill.

But then Anna was there, her sword buried deep in the Fallen's back. He keeled over with a discordant gurgling sound bubbling from deep within his throat, his limbs jerking in the final throes of death, and then finally he went still.

There was no time for thanks, Anna simply gave Castiel a nod, and then she was off, flying back into the heart of the battle without an ounce of hesitation despite the lack of wings on her back. She was amazing, as always. Even though she constantly claimed that she wasn't a soldier – that she lacked the heart and the dedication for it – Castiel disagreed.

She was _born_ for this.

Rejoining the battle despite his injured leg, Castiel fought just as hard as the rest of them. The numbers weren't high – five Fallen against five Righteous – but still the battle was viscous. Already both Castiel and Anna were wounded, and Balthazar, Abdiel, and Nisroc were slowly losing steam. They'd already killed two of the Fallen, but still the last three continued to fight with astounding vigor.

Managing to kill his current opponent, Castiel turned in search of another to fight just in time to see one of the last two Fallen strike down Abdiel in a cowardly move that had him on his knees. And then, without an ounce of hesitation, the Fallen grinned wickedly and loped off his head.

Castiel saw red.

He flew into a rage; his wings beating furiously as he callously ignored Nisroc calling out for him. All he knew was that one of his best friends was dead, and the Fallen would pay. His sword flashed silver, too fast for either to follow, and within moments the last two were dead – just a mess of black feathers and tangled corpses of empty husks that used to be known as angels.

And only when they were dead and the red had drained from his vision did Castiel regain control of himself and fall to one knee, tears pricking his eyes as he genuflected and whispered a prayer for their fallen souls. Afterwards he stood to see Anna, Balthazar, and Nisroc staring at him, awe in their eyes.

"Cas . . ." Balthazar looked amazed. "I never knew you could fight like that."

Castiel offered him a hesitant, tired smile. "Neither did I."

"Balthazar," Nisroc said, glancing worriedly at Castiel, "We have to go."

Balthazar nodded, "I'm sorry to cut this short, brother, sister. Nisroc and I have been summoned. Michael needs us."

"Go," Castiel said, still catching his breath. "We're fine."

Balthazar gave him a look. "Are you sure?"

"_Go_."

The two nodded and disappeared, leaving the sound of wings in their wake, and then it was only Castiel and Anna, standing in the street amidst bodies of the Fallen.

"You're hurt," Anna said.

"I'm fine." Castiel murmured. "You have business to attend to. Take care of it."

Anna looked as if she was about to refuse, but Castiel shook his head.

"Raphael will want to see you."

Anna nodded. "How is he?"

"Bitter."

"I'm sure." She looked sad for a moment and then nodded, "I'll see you later, Cas." Unable to fly, she simply turned and walked off, knowing Raphael would find her wherever she went. Castiel almost felt sorry for her. Raphael's temper had grown worse since she left – especially since she'd always been the only one who could redirect it.

But maybe with her back, Raphael could be happy again.

The pain in Castiel's leg was intense now that the adrenaline had worn off, and he staggered, knowing he needed to get somewhere safe before he passed out. With a thought he was gone from the street, reappearing back at the Winchester's residence. He was a little off, though. He'd meant to appear in the living room, but had ended up in Sam's bedroom.

Again.

"Castiel?" Sam had been sitting in a chair next to the bed. Now he stood, his eyes wide as he saw the blood staining the angel's clothes. "Are you alright?"

Castiel was about to answer, about to assure him he was okay and he just needed to rest, but he was distracted by the form on the bed, and for a second his mind went blank. Then he simply stared, shocked beyond belief, because that was impossible. He couldn't be here. He was _dead._ Castiel _knew _he was dead.

He stumbled forward on shaky legs, reaching out for his brother.

"Gabriel . . ." He gasped, and then everything went black as he collapsed to the floor.

"_Cas!_"

X X X

Dean stood over his bed, staring down at the unconscious angel lying on it and wondering what had happened to him. Castiel was in some shape with blood splattered all over his clothes and along his face. He even had blood in his hair. What really bothered Dean, though, was the wound on his left leg. It was deep, and it looked painful, and it worried him.

Dean had cleaned it and covered it with a dry bandage to keep it from getting infected. And from what he could tell the bleeding had stopped, which was a plus. But still Castiel did not wake up.

And that's what bothered Dean the most.

Sam had told him what had happened before Castiel had passed out. He'd told him of how Castiel had appeared so suddenly, looking as if he'd just participated in the bloodiest battle of all time. He'd told him of how Castiel stumbled toward the bed, eyes wide and full of hope, and how he'd shouted a name – just one name.

_Gabriel._

Sam and Dean guessed that was the name of the angel on Sam's bed. But that still didn't give them much. Okay, they knew his name. But they didn't know where he'd come from or what happened. And they had no idea at all what had happened to Castiel either, or why he'd come back alone or where Anna and Balthazar were.

Just lots of questions and no answers.

Sighing heavily, Dean plopped down onto a chair and kept his eye on Castiel. His chest felt tight and his throat was dry and for some reason he was so worried about this angel lying on his bed that it made him feel almost sick to his stomach. It was unprecedented, this sudden sensation, and Dean couldn't handle it for long.

Finally he got up and left the room, too confused and unsure to stay any longer.

He was heading to the kitchen to grab a beer when knock on the door distracted him. "What are we today, the visitor's center?" He grumbled.

When he answered it Dean wasn't sure who he was expecting, but he definitely wasn't expecting to see Anna was standing there, out-of-breath and wild-looking as if she'd been in a fight. She quickly brushed past him into the apartment. "I need to speak to Castiel," she said, urgency in her voice. "Where is he?"

Dean pointed to his room, still a bit surprised to see her. "I don't know what happened, but he appeared here about half-an-hour ago and just collapsed."

Anna gasped and ran to the room, frantic. Dean followed closely behind. When Anna saw Castiel lying on the bed, though, she sighed in relief. "He's just resting." She murmured, "When angels get badly hurt we sort of fall into a deep sleep. It helps the healing process."

"O-oh," Dean blinked. It made sense. And suddenly, with this knowledge, the weight lifted off his chest and he could breathe again because _Cas was going to be okay._

"Damn it, he could be asleep for a while, though." Anna cursed.

Dean frowned. "What did you need to talk to him about?"

"Everything." She replied cryptically. "I've missed a lot, apparently. And Raphael wasn't very sharing with the details."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "Raphael?"

"An archangel." Anna frowned, "Wait, where's Sam?"

"Oh, he's sitting with Gabriel."

Anna's head snapped toward him so fast that Dean was surprised she didn't dislocated anything. "He's with _who?_"

"Uh, Gabriel . . . another Righteous who dropped in on us unexpectedly. Castiel said his name before he collapsed."

Anna shook her head. "No, that's impossible. Gabriel's dead."

"Obviously not," Dean retorted. "Look, if you want proof just go see for yourself."

And so she did, albeit tearing past Dean without as much as an_ excuse me_ and heading for Sam's room. Sam jumped to his feet when she burst in, startled, but relaxed when he recognized her. However, she ignored his greeting and instead strode over to the bed, determined to prove Dean wrong.

Gabriel could not be there.

He was _dead._

But the moment she saw the angel lying on the bed she knew she was wrong. Gabriel was very much alive, and he was lying there in the Winchester's apartment, of all places. Sure, he was bloodied and beaten and looked as if he'd been through hell, but he was _alive._

"Gabriel . . ." Anna gasped, falling to her knees beside the bed. Her eyes filled with tears, and she took his motionless hand in her own, squeezing it lightly and nearly sobbing as she felt the warmth in his skin and the beat of his heart in his veins. He truly was alive and okay. But how?

"Who is he?" Dean asked, coming up beside Sam. "And why did you think he was dead?"

Anna held back her tears and got to her feet, "Just after the war between the Fallen and the Righteous began, he was captured." She said, "I was there. I saw as they grabbed him and dragged him down out of Heaven with them. And we searched. We searched for a long time. But we never found him. And after three years had gone by with no sign of him anywhere . . . well, we were all sure he was dead." She shook her head. "So how could he possibly be _here?_"

"I don't know," Sam admitted, feeling helpless. "I just came in my room and he was lying there, on the floor. And I know for sure that he wasn't there this morning."

Anna shook her head again. "I need Castiel."

"Well, while we wait for him to wake up, why don't we grab us a beer?" Dean proposed. "You look like you could use one."

"Yeah," Anna agreed. "That's a good idea."

They reconvened in the kitchen, letting Castiel and Gabriel have some space, and Dean pulled three beers from the fridge, handing one to Anna and tossing Sam his. They toasted silently before drinking, and then Anna began to speak.

"The war is not going well," she murmured.

Sam stared at her, unease crawling up his spine. "What do you mean?"

"In the time that the Righteous were trapped in Heaven," Anna explained, "Our numbers stayed the same. But the Fallen have somehow gathered their armies, and in the three years since the war began, their numbers rose exponentially. And now because of that, the Righteous are stretched so thin that I fear the Fallen will overwhelm them soon if something isn't done."

"And what do you think should be done?" Dean asked.

"We need help." Anna said firmly. "We cannot do this alone. We need to raise the number of our troops in order to win this war, and we have to do it fast or all hope will be lost."

Dean frowned, obviously distressed. Then suddenly his expression changed and a huge smile stretched across his face. "I have an idea."

Sam was instantly wary. "What?"

"_Us_, you guys. _Humans!_ There are _billions_ of us on this planet, and if we can rally them to our cause, we could help the Righteous defeat the Fallen!" He grinned, obviously pleased with himself. "We can take back what is ours!"

Anna and Sam both stared at him, eyes wide, jaws slack, and Dean just stared back, goofy grin plastered to his face in such a stupid manner that Sam was surprised it didn't stay that way. Finally, after a few beats of strangled silence, Anna shook her head and straightened, gulping down half of her drink before slamming it on the counter.

"You're _insane_."


	7. Illusion and Dream

Jo was running.

The knife in her right hand was sharp; serrated and coated in angel blood. An angel-killer they called it. But to her it felt useless during the actual threat of an angel attack. The streets were conveniently empty, a product of the recent reported angel raids happening within the city – something no one ever thought could happen – and Jo knew that she was on her own. There wouldn't be anyone coming to her rescue.

She skidded around a corner, blonde hair flying as she glanced behind her. The street was empty, though. No sign of the angel following her. And yet still she ran, wanting to be sure. But too soon she had to stop as she found herself facing a dead-end that had her trapped in the alleyway. Her mouth ran dry and she spun around, wondering if she could make it back onto the street before the angel chasing her caught up.

The sound of wings beating the air reached her ears and her heart sank as she realized it was too late. But, even as the angel landed in front of her with a mighty sound that shook the earth beneath her feet, Jo brandished her weapon, determined to go down fighting.

The angel's eyes burned with an unholy light; blood-red and shining as bright as a full moon. His wings spread out behind him, black as night, and he stood a good foot taller than her. Dark robes fluttered around his ankles as he pulled a fiery sword from it sheath and held it up with a grin that pierced the darkness, reminding Jo of the Cheshire cat, and she involuntarily backed away from him, terrified.

Her back hit the wall and she knew she had no place left to run. The weapon she held seemed flimsy now, like an ant with a toothpick challenging a giant with a boulder. But still she held onto the hope that she'd get through this. She had to make it out alive. She couldn't leave her mother, not when her father had been killed in an angel raid as well. It would break her heart.

Jo couldn't let that happen. So she stood tall and held out her knife, daring the angel to attack with fear obvious in her eyes.

The angel snickered. "What a brave little ant you are," it snarled in a dark, raspy voice, and Jo was again reminded of her analogy of the ant and the giant.

A sudden flash of movement was all the warning Jo got as she was suddenly slammed against the alley wall. All her breath left her lungs and her knife fell from her limp fingers as the angel held her in place, pinned to the brick – helpless, hopeless, and practically dead already – and she whimpered, holding back tears, and closed her eyes as she realized that she'd never stood a chance.

A sudden screeching sound, like a high-pitched siren, reached her ears just then and she gasped as the angel abruptly let go and backed away from her. Confused and wary, she scrambled to grab her knife in case the angel tried to pin her down again, but instead it simply ignored her and stared up at the sky, its eyes wild.

"I know you're there!" It screeched. "Show yourself!"

There was a gust of wind then, one so forceful that Jo had to turn away and cover her ears for fear of being blow away. When the wind had finally settled she chanced turning to see what happened, not entirely sure what she was expecting. But she _definitely_ hadn't expected to see a different angel – this one with white wings, blonde hair, and incredibly modern-looking clothes – standing there, a silvery short sword in his hands and fire in his eyes as he stared down at the black-winged angel who lay on the ground beneath him; motionless in death.

The white-winged angel watched it a bit longer, as if to make sure that it was, in fact, dead. But it did not move. And finally the white-winged angel turned toward Jo, brow furrowed in what seemed to be concern.

But . . . why would an _angel _be concerned about her?

"Are you alright?" The angel asked, stepping closer.

Jo gasped and clenched her angel-killer tightly in her hand. "Don't come any closer." She threatened.

The angel put up his hands in a sign of peace. "Look, I am one of the Righteous. I will not hurt you."

Jo stared at him. _Righteous?_ What the hell did that mean?

The angel took another step closer before Jo could react and she had to choke back a scream as she backed away, holding her knife so tightly that her nails had drawn blood from her palms, enough to have it dripping down her wrist.

The angel sighed, his white wings drooping as if he was giving up. "Look, I know it's hard to understand, but please try to." He began. "There are two types of angels in this world. There are the black-winged angels that have spread fear and discord across this planet – they are called the Fallen – and the white-winged ones who, like me, are working to stop them. We are called the Righteous, and it is our duty to serve and protect humanity." He offered her a smile, "My name is Balthazar. Call me if you need help and I will come." Then with that he gave her a short bow and disappeared in a flurry of wings.

Jo stared at the place he – _Balthazar_ – had just been standing moments before and then slid down the wall to land on her knees. The angel-killer fell from her bloodied fingers to clatter to the ground, and then she was sobbing, great big gasping heaves that had her shaking so hard that she could hardly stand.

She was _alive_.

And an _angel_ had saved her.

_But why?_

X X X

"I know it's sort of insane, but do you have a better plan?" Dean retorted.

"No," Anna admitted reluctantly. "But _still _–"

"Alright, children," Balthazar quipped, appearing next to Sam and making the younger Winchester nearly collapse in fright. "Enough is enough. Now do you want to tell daddy what you're so worked up about?"

Anna rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Anael," Balthazar scolded, "Didn't your parents ever teach you not to sass back to adults?"

"Hey!" Dean interrupted. "Look, Balthazar, I have a plan. Something that I think could help the Righteous win this war."

Interested, the angel turned to him. "And what might that be?"

"Humans." Dean responded promptly. "Just think about it for a second. This is _our_ planet and there are _billions_ of us on it; more than enough to make a substantial army to battle the Fallen. With a bit of training and the right weapons, we could turn the tables on those black-winged bastards for once."

"But why would the humans being willing to help?" Anna demanded. "They've suffered through three years of pain and fear at the hands of creatures they call angels. What makes you think they'd listen to us at all?"

"_We_ listened." Dean snarled back.

Anna shook her head. "You two were a special case, Dean."

"No, _listen_ to me, Anna. I believed Castiel's story, despite the terrible past I've had with the Fallen, because he let me go without a scratch, okay? I'd always heard that angels were all evil creatures who would kill us on sight, so it was his gentle nature that made me change my mind. And though it took a little coaxing, Sam believed too. That could happen with others as well. It's not just us. I know there are others out there willing to believe that not all angels are bad."

Balthazar stepped in suddenly. "Like the girl I just saved . . ."

Sam stared at him. "What?"

"On my way here there was a girl – young, blonde, very pretty – being attacked by a Fallen, so I saved her. Of course she was all defensive and whatnot with that flimsy angel-killer blade of hers, but on a whim I decided to tell her of the Fallen and the Righteous." He shrugged, "I didn't really go into detail, but I gave her the basics and she . . . I think she believed me."

Dean grinned, "See? It's a start."

Balthazar nodded. "Well, _I_ think this is a good idea. Of course I'll have to take it up the ladder, but I'm sure Michael will agree with it also."

"Michael?" Sam echoed.

"Another archangel," Anna said flippantly.

"Not just _any _archangel," Balthazar corrected. "Michael is the head honcho. He's basically our boss, so I have to report things like this to him." He glanced at Anna, "And I'm sure he'd like to see you again, Anael."

Anna nodded, "I'll go."

"One last thing, though." Balthazar frowned. "Where's Cas? I haven't seen him since the battle."

"He was wounded," Anna murmured, "He's asleep in the other room along with Gabriel."

"Ah, that's good – wait, did you say _Gabriel?_"

Anna nodded. "He's here. I don't know how."

Balthazar stared at her, looking horrified, before composing himself. "W-well, I'll look at him later. For now we need to see Michael. I'm sure he'll want to hear _all _about this." And with that he took Anna's hand, and they were off.

"Now what?" Dean huffed in their wake, feeling left out again, "We just get friggin' dumped here all the time like extra baggage. I mean, at least they could give us _something _to do, right?"

Sam shrugged and grabbed another beer. "Angels, man. There's no way to know how they think."

"_Dean?"_

Dean nearly choked on his beer as Castiel came up behind him. "Cas, what did I say about sneaking up on me like that?"

"Sorry," the angel murmured. His coat was still spattered with blood – Dean had cleaned his face and neck off with a wet washcloth – but he looked lots better than he had before and, as far as Dean could tell, his wound had healed completely.

Dean smiled and shook his head. "Forget it. How're you feeling?"

"I am healed." Castiel replied, "Thank you. But how is Gabriel?"

"He hasn't woken up yet." Sam said. "But Anna was here and she said he's okay. She also told us about what happened to him."

"Yes . . ." Castiel murmured, "The last I saw of him, the Fallen were dragging him out of Heaven by chains wrapped around his wings." He cringed at the thought, his blue eyes full of fear.

"Balthazar was here, too." Dean said, wanting to distract the angel from his memories. "He and Anna left a few moments ago to talk to Michael about Gabriel and our plan to help the Righteous win the war."

Castiel furrowed his brow. "What plan?"

Dean and Sam explained it to him – in great detail, mind you – and by the time they were finished Castiel was nodding, his eyebrows creased in contemplation.

"I think that's a good plan." He murmured. "And, to be honest, it's something we all dreamed about. We just never thought we'd have a chance – not after all that's happened with the Fallen."

"Well, we're proof that you do have a chance." Dean said. "Like I said, _we_ believed you, didn't we?"

Castiel looked as if he was about to say something more, but was cut off as he flinched and put a hand to his head like he had a sudden, really bad headache.

"Cas?" Dean asked, grabbing his shoulder. "You alright?"

Castiel nodded after a few moments. "It was a message from Heaven," he murmured. "Michael approves of your plan and wants to get started on it as soon as possible."

Dean grinned. "Really? Yes!"

Castiel nodded. "I have to go, then. My brothers will be needing help convincing the humans of the truth, and we have orders to extend our reach to places other than the United States."

"I want to go with you." Dean said suddenly, desperately. "I feel so worthless just sitting here, Cas. _Please _let me come."

Castiel stared at him a moment, obviously thinking it through, before nodding and offering him a small smile. "Of course you can accompany me, Dean."

"What about me?" Sam asked.

"You must stay here with Gabriel," Castiel said. "We can't afford to lose him again, Sam. Guard him as you would your own brother."

Sam nodded and sighed heavily, watching as Castiel took Dean's hand and disappeared. Left alone, Sam grabbed his beer and headed back to his room to sit in the chair by Gabriel's side, wondering why he was always the one left behind in the end. He knew he was the youngest, but that didn't mean he couldn't do anything.

It was so unfair.


	8. Rage and Serenity

It was a whim, to be frank. A silly idea that Jo doubted would actually take hold. But for the life of her, she couldn't stop thinking about that angel – the one who'd called himself Balthazar – and how he'd saved her life. It had haunted her every waking moment, and every time she closed her eyes she could see him, standing there with his wings flung wide open and his eyes burning with power. But along with the awe that struck her at the memory, there was also guilt.

Because she hadn't told her mom.

After the attack – and subsequent rescue – Jo had gone home. And despite the thousands of questions chasing themselves round and round in her head, she'd acted natural like nothing at all had happened. It had just been a normal day at work, and that was all. But as soon as dinner was over, Jo pleaded exhaustion from the day and retreated to her room where she almost immediately flicked on her computer. She needed to find out what was going on and why an angel – of all things – had saved her. But as she brought up the search engine she suddenly froze and stared at it, blank.

_What on earth am I supposed to search for?_

Finally she made a decision and typed in 'angel survival stories' before clicking 'go.' To her surprise she got over one million hits on that alone, but as she read through story after story she realized that these were stories of people who'd survived through angel raids – not stories of people who'd been _saved_ by angels.

So she decided to try something else. Working off of a hunch she typed in 'white-winged angels'. She got a few less hits for that, and as she scrolled through the pages she realized that most of what popped up was the exact opposite of what she was looking for; poetry and short stories about the angels depicted in the Bible, mostly. But nothing to match what had happened to her.

And finally, just when she was about to give up, she found a website that seemed different from the others. Deciding it couldn't hurt she clicked on it and was almost instantaneously blinded. The website was done all in white, reminding her of Balthazar's wings, and there were feathers and harps everywhere and little cherubs in togas. Jo was just starting to wonder if this was a religious website and not anything related to her experience at all when a link on the side caught her eye.

_First-hand Encounters._

Clicking on it, Jo found herself swept up in a tide of stories telling tale of white-winged angels who'd saved whole groups of people from the black-winged ones most humans had grown accustomed to. And in fact, now that Jo thought about it, before she had met Balthazar, she'd thought that all angels had black wings.

But as she read through more and more of the stories she realized something. All these stories had been posted in the last few weeks. They were all recent ones, and Jo began to wonder, was there more to what Balthazar had said? He'd mentioned the 'Righteous' and the 'Fallen', however she had no idea what he'd meant by that.

Maybe she'd never know.

But her stubborn personality pushed that thought away. She was going to find the truth, no matter what. So, without really letting herself think about what she was doing, Jo made a post on the website requesting a meet-up with anyone in Chicago who'd been saved by an angel. That left her where she stood now, in front of a tiny group of teenagers in the park across the street from her house.

It was late, past midnight, and Jo was trying to figure out what to say since she was still a bit shocked that anyone had even shown up. They'd gotten through introductions – though it had been kind of awkward – and then everyone had fallen silent, sort of looking to Jo for instruction. After all, this had been her idea.

"Alright, uh, thank you for coming." Jo began nervously. "And now that we're all acquainted I thought we should start out telling our stories of how we were saved. Who wants to go first?"

A blonde girl who Jo remembered had introduced herself as Jessica instantly raised her hand.

Jo nodded at her, "Go ahead."

"Well, it wasn't just me. We were all there." Jessica said, pointing at the three other teens who'd come with her. "Three black-winged angels had us cornered, and we – we knew no one could save us, we were sure of it. But then they appeared, as if out of nowhere; two white-winged angels and two human guys. The two guys got us out of there, gave us time to get away as the white-wings fought the black-wings off. And then, well . . . that was the last we heard of them."

"Did any of them say anything to you?" Jo asked, excited by the story.

Jessica nodded slowly, "Well . . . while they were ushering us away I asked one of the guys what was going on and why they were working with angels, and what he said changed my life forever."

"He said that not all angels are bad." Another of the group, a tall guy with light hair and blue eyes who'd introduced himself as Adam, finished.

Jessica smiled at him, "And so here we are."

"Thank you," Jo said.

"How about you tell us your story, then?" Another of the teens, a tall, pretty girl with long dark hair and dark eyes who'd introduced herself as Ruby, proposed.

Jo nervously slipped her hands into the pockets of her jeans. "Well, uh, alright." She cleared her throat. "Um, it was two nights ago that it happened. I was on my way home from work when I was attacked. Now of course, courtesy of my mom, I always have an angel-killer on me. But to be honest, in the face of an actual attack it does next to nothing . . ." She trailed off, lost in her thoughts.

Everyone had taken a seat on the ground now, spread out in comfortable positions as they listened to her story.

"Go on," Another guy, John, urged.

Jo nodded, pulling herself from her memories. "Well, the black-winged angel had me trapped; weaponless and hopeless. I was sure I was going to die. Then I heard this sound – a high-pitched screech that seemed to hurt the black-wing's ears. It pulled away from me and shouted at the sky, drawing its sword as if in a challenge, and I thought it had gone insane or something. Taking the chance, I grabbed the angel-killer I'd dropped in the hope that I could defend myself with it. And then . . . then that's when _he _appeared. Tall and powerful with wings the color of snow and a silver sword that shimmered in the light . . ." A feeling, almost like peace, enveloped Jo as she spoke and she smiled. "I only got a glimpse of him before the wind began to blow, so strong and so loud that I had to turn away. And when it settled and I turned back around, the black-wing that had been attacking me was dead, and the white-winged angel stood over him."

"Did he speak to you?" Jessica asked, and Jo could practically see everyone holding their breath in anticipation of her answer.

"Yes," Jo replied.

"What did he say?" Adam asked.

And so, Jo then launched into the story of how the white-winged angel had told her that he wouldn't harm her, how he'd called himself one of the 'Righteous' and had referred to the black-wings as 'Fallen', how he'd said that he didn't have enough time to explain everything, and how – in the end – he'd given her his name.

"Balthazar," she murmured. "His name was Balthazar, and he told me to call him if I was ever in trouble."

"Call him, then." Ruby said.

Jo froze. "_What?_"

"Call him, and then maybe we can confirm this story of his about the Fallen and the Righteous." She smiled, "Don't you want to know the truth?"

Jo nodded then, because she did want to know.

She _had _to know.

X X X

"I still think this plan is insane," Anna huffed.

"But Michael likes it," Balthazar said, "So that's that."

Anna nodded and bit her lip. "Michael, uh . . . he looked happy to see me."

"Are you kidding?" Balthazar scoffed, "He was hardly holding it together when he first saw you! In fact, I'm surprised that he didn't break down then and there, to be honest."

Anna looked at him dubiously.

"I mean it," Balthazar said seriously. "We all felt the emptiness you left behind when you disappeared, but none more than Michael." He smiled, "We are glad you're back."

Anna nodded. "It was a mistake to run as I did. I know that now."

"But it's alright, because all is forgiven now."

"So it is."

The path they walked was long and straight, twisting through Heaven on a course that led it past gardens and cities and towering mountains topped with snow. It was a beautiful route, one that Balthazar walked often. And now that he thought about it, Anna was the one who'd showed him this path originally. But that had been many, many years ago. So long that he'd nearly forgotten.

_. . . Balthazar . . ._

Balthazar stopped up short, freezing in place so suddenly that Anna almost ran into him.

"Hey, Balthazar, what -?"

"Hush," He murmured, cutting her off as he grabbed her wrist. She stared at him, confused, but he only stood there, perfectly motionless for a few beats before he turned back to her. "I have to go."

"What?" Anna gasped, and then suddenly they were back at the Winchester's apartment, standing in the room where Sam sat watching over Gabriel.

"Sorry, no time to explain," Balthazar said shortly as he let go of Anna and took off again.

Anna sighed in his wake and glanced over at Sam who, after getting over the initial shock of their sudden arrival, simply sat shaking his head.

"Angels, man. I'm telling you."

X X X

Jo frowned. Balthazar had said to _call_ for him, right? She'd guessed that he just meant say his name and he'd appear. Maybe he wanted her to actually shout for him but . . . that wouldn't make much sense, would it?

"Where is he?" Adam wondered.

Jo shook her head. "Maybe he's in battle . . . or something."

A sudden gust of wind and the whispered sound of wings on the air could be heard, and then suddenly Balthazar was standing there among them, white wings extended to their full length and his sword out and crackling with energy. He was crouched low, weapon raised as if ready for a fight, but when he saw all the scared humans cowering around him he froze and glanced at Jo.

"What's going on?" He hissed. "I thought you were in danger."

She shook her head, awed and shocked by the being standing before her. "N-no, I – uh, I mean, _we_ wanted to talk to you."

Balthazar straightened, lowering his sword as his wings folded down against his back. "About what?"

Jo relaxed a bit, though she was still wary of him, and inched a bit closer. "What you said before, about the Righteous and the Fallen . . . is that true?"

Balthazar nodded.

"And how can we trust you?" Jessica demanded.

The angel's ice-blue eyes flicked to her and she flinched, taken aback by their intensity. "You have absolutely no reason to trust me, I suppose." He murmured. "After three years at the hands of my fallen kin, I'm surprised any of you even consider it."

"Don't forget that you _saved_ me, Balthazar." Jo murmured, "You never tried to attack me as the others – the _Fallen_, did. And even here, even now, you've made no move to attack us." She glanced around at the rest of her small group – Adam, Jessica, Ruby, and John – who, while scared, seemed willing enough to trust Balthazar. "I see no reason _not_ to trust you."

Balthazar smiled at her. _Dean was right,_ he thought, _as was Michael. We _do_ have a chance here after all._ "Thank you," he said in return. "That means a lot, you don't even know."

Ruby approached him, arms crossed over her chest. "So, can you tell us more about the Righteous and the Fallen? It sounds almost like you're fighting each other or something."

"Yes," Balthazar affirmed. "We are at war with our fallen brethren." He sighed and glanced up at the sky, "And we are losing."

X X X

The apartment was quiet again.

Anna had left nearly a half-hour ago, telling him she had business to take care of or something. Sam figured it to do with angels and the war between the Fallen and the Righteous. But, to be honest, he wasn't entirely sure what she'd said as she'd walked out of the apartment; something about a temple in the mountains.

Well, whatever. Not his problem.

Sam leaned back in his chair with a sigh and stared down at the book he was holding. He'd been reading and re-reading the same paragraph for the last twenty minutes, and he hadn't retained a word of it. He was too distracted. Although, the fact that he had an angel lying on his bed was an adequate excuse.

Laying his book aside, Sam scooted his chair a bit closer so he could get a better look at the angel. Gabriel, they'd called him. He was short, especially compared to Sam, but the fact that he was lean and fit made up for that – among other things. His hair was a dark blonde color, like the sun gone behind the clouds, and he looked so peaceful, just lying there. Sam reached forward to push a piece of his hair out of his face and smiled. Despite the bruises and wounds marring Gabriel's skin, he was really quite beautiful.

And then there were his wings.

They were so large that they hung off the side of the bed, and even then they were almost touching the walls on either side of the room. The feathers were the color of fresh snow where you could see through the blood and grime that coated them. Sam had tried to clean them off, but hadn't been able to get it all. He stroked a few of the cleaner ones now, marveling at their silky texture.

Just then, in a sudden moment of insanity, Sam briefly wondered what it would be like to kiss the angel.

Suddenly, Gabriel's eyes opened, revealing an amazing color tainting the irises that looked like warm honey mixed with the dark green of the forest. It made Sam instantly think of dappled sunlight splaying across summer-fresh leaves, and he felt all the air leave his lungs as the angel stared at him in bewilderment.

"_Where am I?"_


	9. Above and Across

**A/N: So, sorry for being so suddenly MIA. I have this family thing going on right now that'd take a long time to explain. Anyway, all's good and I'm going to try and post more chapters in this upcoming week ^^ Also, as an apology, I give you an entire chapter of Destiel.**

* * *

><p>Dean wasn't sure what he'd been expecting.<p>

Maybe the towering mountains of the Himalayas topped with snow, or the never-ending fields of the Orient dotted with crops, or a small, unassuming South African village that no one had ever heard of. Maybe the eternal expanse of the Pacific ocean, or maybe even a breathtaking view of some other countries' capital crowned with mist. But instead he and Castiel ended up in a place that looked remarkably like one of Chicago's many public parks; the one that just happened to be a few blocks away from his apartment.

"Uh, where are we?" Dean asked. "I thought you said Michael wanted you to reach beyond the United States . . . or whatever."

Castiel gave him a look. "He did, but I need to speak to Balthazar first."

The angel walked off and Dean frowned after him. "What's Balthazar doing in a park?"

"Let's find out."

They walked down the path that led to a small clearing on the other side of the park, Dean following Castiel along blindly because the angel seemed to know where he was going. It was then that Dean decided he'd have to remember ask if angels had some sort of radar that told them where other angels were or something.

"Hey, Cas. Why are we looking for Balthazar anyway?"

"I already told you, I need to speak to him." The angel paused suddenly and glanced back at Dean. "When did you start calling me that?"

"What?"

"Cas. When did you start calling me Cas?"

"Oh, um . . ." Dean blinked, he hadn't really thought about it. The shortened version of the angel's name just rolled off his tongue with such ease that he hadn't questioned its existence there. "A few days ago, I think . . . uh, why? Do you not like it?"

"No, that's not it. Others call me that too; I just . . . wasn't expecting it from you."

"Why not?"

"It's what only my closest friends and family call me." The angel murmured, "But . . . I do not mind if you continue to use it, Dean, seeing as I consider you such a close friend already."

Dean found himself taken aback.

_. . . Seeing as I consider you such a close friend already. . ._

A small spark of warmth that started in Dean's chest appeared just then, as if someone had lit a match inside of him. It spread throughout his entire being, seeming to almost envelope his very soul. And he suddenly felt so calm and at peace that he simply gave the angel a smile in return and said, "Thanks, Cas."

Castiel nodded, just one nod, short and to the point, and then turned and continued walking down the path, Dean following easily behind. Only now it was different. Now the air between them wasn't as awkward. Now they felt comfortable in each other's company.

Oh, except for the fact that Dean's heart was doing backflips in his chest.

What was that about?

Dean glanced over at Castiel, remembering what he'd thought of the angel the first time he'd met him. Dark hair, blue eyes, wings white as snow – he'd been beautiful in Dean's eyes; terrifying, but beautiful. Now it was less terrifying and more awe-inspiring, though there was still that undeniable beauty there. And Dean, well, he'd never been one to lie to himself. He knew that he preferred men, and he made no move to try and hide that fact. But he doubted it was a good idea to lust after an angel, even if he was a guy. No . . . _especially_ if he was a guy.

He briefly wondered how they would take something like that back in the Heaven that Cas had mentioned, but he was cut off from his train of thoughts as they skirted a corner and found themselves in a small clearing. There were around five or so young teens sitting in the grass – cross-legged, mostly – and in the very middle of their group sat Balthazar, talking animatedly with his hands as he spoke to them.

And, for the most part, the teens seemed to be completely unafraid.

Dean stared, wondering what was going on. Castiel, however, gave the small circle of humans a cursory glance and then strode through the group without even so much as an introduction. He didn't pay attention to the gasps and whispers that followed in his wake as he approached Balthazar, ignoring them even as the teenagers present all got to their feet, looking near ready to attack him.

"Wait!" Balthazar said, stopping them in their tracks. "He's one of the Righteous."

It was as if a collective sigh of relief circulated through the group then, and one-by-one they all resumed their seats, readily accepted Balthazar's word of truth without even an ounce of suspicion. Dean couldn't believe it. What had he possibly said to convince them that he was one of the good guys? As Dean recalled, it hadn't been that easy for Cas to convince Sam – or even him for that matter.

Castiel gave his friend a small smile, "I see you're getting along well."

"Yeah, more or less." Balthazar returned the smile and raised an eyebrow, "So I'm guessing that you heard what Michael said?"

"I did. I'm one of the ones he requested to stretch beyond this country, and Dean volunteered to go with me."

Balthazar's gaze flicked to Dean for a moment and he grinned, "I see."

"Balthazar –"

The snarky angel cut him off by lowering his voice and leaning in, "Cas, don't think that I didn't notice."

Castiel turned away from him. "Farewell, Balthazar."

Balthazar chuckled softly, shaking his head. "See you later, Cas."

Castiel's wings and shoulders where stiff and tense when he went back to Dean, his face carefully schooled into an acceptably blank expression, and Dean gave him a quick glance before deciding to just follow along and not to say anything or ask any more questions. The angel looked pissed, and Dean was _not_ about to find out why. He'd rather avoid ending up as angel-bait for the moment, thank you very much.

But finally he couldn't take the silence any longer.

"So . . ."

"We're going." Castiel said, grabbing him by the shoulder before he could protest and whisking them away. Dean felt rather dizzy when they emerged to wherever-the-hell Castiel had taken him, and he had to pause for a moment and close his eyes just so the earth didn't heave him off his feet with the way it was tilting and turning around him. By the time he finally regained his composure he noticed that they were standing in the middle of a darkened street lit only by a few wayward streetlights, and off in the distance he swore he could hear waves. Where they near the ocean?

It was warm wherever they were, too. Very warm as opposed to the mid-fall chill back in Chicago. Dean unzipped his jacket, wishing he'd worn shorter sleeves.

"Before you ask," Castiel said, cutting off his inevitable question, "This is a little side trip. Not our actual destination."

"Where exactly are we, though?"

"Florida."

Ah. That explained the warmth and the sound of waves off in the distance. But Florida was a pretty big state, so in what part of Florida were they? Dean glanced around him as if hoping to see a sign or something to attest to their location, but instead all he saw were miles of flat land and the deserted street they were standing in the middle of.

To be frank, the oppressive silence of the place was getting to him.

"Here," Castiel said suddenly, handing him one of the silver swords that all Righteous apparently carried. "We have to hurry."

"What's going on?" Dean floundered. "Why is the street so empty?"

"The Fallen have raided the surrounding towns until there's almost nothing left. That's why it is so barren here."

"Why are _we_ here, then?"

"Mihael, my brother." Castiel said, "He called for help, and I just happened to be the closest to answer his plea." He took off at a brisk walk down the street, beckoning for Dean to follow, and – though he didn't like it – the eldest Winchester shut his mouth and pushed all his questions to the back of his mind for later. They could wait.

And if Castiel wanted him to follow, he would.

But the sword was slick in Dean's hands; sweaty from nerves that came out of nowhere to besiege him with uncertainty. The sudden influx of fear startled him, but he knew where it was coming from. He'd only come into contact with the Fallen a few times, and each one was a fixed point in his memory that he'd never forget. The first time, his parents had died. The second time, he himself had near died. The third time, he'd had backup in the form of two Righteous and his own brother. And this time it was just him and Castiel, off to help a solitary Righteous in battle.

But who knew how many Fallen were there? Who knew how viciously outnumbered they'd be? This lack of knowledge made Dean more than a little uneasy. So when they turned a corner and saw the battle – heard the unmistakable sounds of angel-on-angel violence – and Dean counted only two Fallen, his heart lightened considerably.

They could deal with just two.

"Mihael!" Castiel exclaimed as he rushed toward the battle, headed for the white-winged angel that was obviously the one he'd named as his fellow brother. Mihael did not turn at the call, but Dean saw him begin to fight back against the two Fallen cornering him, as if Castiel's mere presence gave him strength to continue on.

It took Dean a moment to pull himself back to reality, but by then he was already running, his feet pounding out a mantra in his head as he saw Castiel narrowly dodge a horizontal strike from one of the Fallen's burning swords.

_Protect Cas, protect Cas, protect Cas . . ._

Dean threw himself at the Fallen who'd tried to hurt Castiel – the black-winged bastard that had _dared _to even fucking _consider _striking out at the angel – and buried his silvery sword deep in the damned being's chest, reveling in the subsequent cry of pain that proceeded from the Fallen's lips as he keeled over; dead almost immediately.

Dean spun around quickly, adrenaline pumping, vision gone red with rage, and brandished his sword, quite ready to continue fighting. But he froze when he saw Castiel and Mihael standing as if paralyzed, watching him with noticeable appraisal in their eyes. The other Fallen lay on the ground behind him, dead as well, and Dean relaxed his stance as he realized the battle was over.

But still Castiel and Mihael stared at him.

"What?" Dean asked defensively, feeling suddenly self-conscious.

Mihael, a Righteous with bright green eyes and hair the color of the night sky, gaped at him. "Whatwas _that?_"

Castiel shook his head. "Dean, once again you've exceeded my expectations."

"Uh . . . thanks?" Dean ventured, not sure whether he should take that as a compliment or not.

"You're welcome." Castiel said sincerely, and Dean felt awkward all over again.

Mihael broke the strange silence then – in which Castiel had continued to stare at Dean with that weird intensity he adopted too often for Dean to feel comfortable about it – by turning to Castiel and bowing low. "Thank you, my brother."

Castiel glanced away from Dean and nodded, "Of course."

"Good luck." Mihael murmured. Then with that as his farewell he was gone, the sound of wings echoing in his wake, and Dean and Castiel were left to stand in a moderately uncomfortable silence until Castiel nodded.

"We should go."

He took Dean's shoulder again – even though Dean was secretly wishing the angel would take his hand like he had the first time – and they were off. However this time after arriving at their destination, Dean felt considerably less nauseous than he had been the first few times around. Maybe he was finally starting to get used to this whole teleportation thing, which was good, seeing how often the Righteous used it.

The first thing Dean noticed after their arrival, though, was the heat. It cascaded around him in roiling waves of fire, draining all the moisture from the air so quickly that he already felt thirsty. But as he glanced up, all thoughts of beverages flew from his mind for the city stretched out before him was amazing in all senses of the word; obviously modern in its streets and buildings, and yet with something distinctly alien hidden in its architecture.

"Where are we?" Dean gasped breathlessly.

Castiel was looking at him in that odd way again. "Riyadh, the capital city of Saudi Arabia."

"And, uh we're here to recruit?"

"In a manner of speaking," Castiel said mysteriously. "Michael had very specific orders for me to try and persuade certain people – important people – to join us." He smiled then, something Dean suddenly found extremely attractive, and started to walk off, motioning for Dean to follow as he'd made a habit of doing. "Keep up, Dean. Riyadh is a big city, and I wouldn't want us getting separated."

Dean quickly hurried to catch up, pushing aside the inappropriate thoughts cluttering his mind, and tried to think about something else besides the outline of Castiel's shoulders or the way his coat fell so perfectly around his body, framing it nicely. And had his hips always swayed so deliciously when he walked?

Dean suddenly knew in that instant that he was in some deep shit.

_Well, fuck._


	10. Love and War

Sam was trying to remember how he'd ended up lying on the floor with an angel perched atop him and a knife at his neck, but it just wasn't coming to him. One moment he'd been at Gabriel's side, trying to calm the angel down after he'd woken up disoriented and lost, and the next he'd been staring at the ceiling.

And honestly, the anger he saw in Gabriel's eyes from this angle terrified him.

"Answer my question," Gabriel hissed, pressing the knife – where had that knife come from anyway?– deeper into the flesh under Sam's chin. "_Where am I?_"

Sam swallowed hard, trying to get the words to come out, but his throat was dry and his tongue felt too big in his mouth and the sickening feeling in his stomach was really messing with his ability to think clearly. The most he could do was give Gabriel a pleading, helpless look as tears filled his hazel eyes – making them glassy as his vision blurred.

"Answer!" Gabriel demanded.

The sudden sound of the door to Sam's room bursting open made both Gabriel and the youngest Winchester turn to look, and their eyes widened simultaneously – Sam's in relief, Gabriel's in surprise – as they saw Anna standing there, her expression full of disbelief and worry.

"Gabe!" She gasped.

"Anael?" All the color drained from Gabriel's face and he glanced back at Sam, bewildered. "What's going on?"

Quickly surveying the scene in front of her, Anna's eyebrows knotted together. "I'd like to ask you the same."

Sam was trembling now, because – despite Anna's presence – there _was _still a knife at his neck, and the cold steel of the weapon seemed to enjoy constantly reminding him of the current hopeless position he was in. Still, he craned his neck to better see Anna, hoping she'd help him out a bit.

"Anna . . ." he begged softly.

"Gabe, get off of him." The red-haired ex-angel murmured, "He's a friend."

Gabriel looked surprised yet again, an emotion that was quickly followed by disbelief, and then disgust – though the latter seemed to be directed more at himself. "A friend . . ." he murmured, pulling the knife away as his startling honey-and-green colored eyes scrutinized Sam. "What's your name?"

Sam let out a sigh of relief as he relaxed, able to breathe easily again. But without the knife as a distraction he suddenly became extremely aware of their current position, what with Gabriel straddling his hips and all. Sam felt his cheeks burn with color and he had to clear his throat a few times before he could answer.

"U-uh, I'm Sam – Sam Winchester."

Gabriel nodded and stood, offering him a hand. At first Sam was unsure, but Anna gave him a reassuring nod when he glanced at her, so he went ahead and accepted the help. Gabriel hoisted him to his feet, but not without Sam noticing that he stood nearly a foot taller than the angel – an entire _foot._ And all of a sudden the hysterical urge to laugh bubbled up inside of him.

Gabriel seemed to notice the sudden humor of the situation, for he fixed Sam with a death glare. "Don't even think about it, Sasquatch."

Sam nodded, hiding his grin with a fake expression of sincerity. "Sure thing, arm rest."

If looks could kill, Sam would be a mere smoldering corpse by now.

"Anyway," Anna said slowly, obviously confused by their sudden – and truthfully quite odd – banter. They'd only just met, and mere _moments _ago Gabriel had been poised to kill Sam if necessary. She shook her head and wondered at their sanity but decided to leave that for later. There were more pressing matters at hand. "What happened to you, Gabe? You've been missing for so long; we thought you were dead . . ."

"I wanted to be dead," Gabriel replied softly, his eyes suddenly dropping to regard the floor as the humor that had previously lit up his features faded away. "I wished, often, that I could be."

Sam wondered if he looked as horrified as he felt. What on earth could those black-winged bastards have done to him to make him so desperate for relief as to yearn for death? "What happened?" At the look Gabriel gave him he stuttered, "I-if you want to tell us, that is."

Gabriel shook his head. "There's not much to tell. It was just the same thing over and over, every single day for however long I was in that hellhole. Torture – lots of it. And let me tell you, the Fallen know a thing or two about torture." His tone was light but his eyes were haunted, the green in them swirling into something dark and tainted. "They wanted me to join them, to become like them and give into the corruption. They told me that if I did they'd stop the torture, but I refused . . . and I kept on refusing."

"How did you escape?" Anna gasped, looking distinctly paler than usual.

The shadows in Gabriel's eyes lessened slightly at this. "It was a stroke of luck, to be honest. All I remember is that after one torture session my restraints weren't re-enchanted with whatever Enochian spell they used to bind me. The moment they opened the door I was out of there, and then I just followed the closest trail of residual grace I could, and I ended up here." He frowned, "Now that I think about it, I was following the trail of Castiel's grace. Is he here?"

"Not at the moment," Anna said. "He's gone out. But he'll be back soon."

"Along with my brother," Sam added.

"I see." Gabriel sighed heavily and ran a hand through his dark blonde tresses as he sat down on the edge of Sam's bed. "So, now it's your turn. What's been happening here lately? Oh and how long was I gone, exactly? Time sort of . . . lost all meaning there, if you know what I mean."

"Three years," Anna murmured, "You've been gone three years."

Gabriel's eyes widened. "What? No, no, no. That can't be right. I mean, I know I've been gone a while, but _three years?_"

Anna nodded, "And during those three years a lot changed."

"What are you talking about?"

Anna glanced at Sam, as if asking for him to lend her his strength, and took a deep breath. "When the Fallen took you, Gabe, it was the last straw for the Righteous. They retaliated, but the Fallen had knowledge of a special, ancient Enochian spell – one that trapped us in Heaven for the last three years. We only just broke the seal a few days ago, and since then everything's escalated."

Gabriel stared at her, obviously distressed as he drank in every word. "Escalated how? That sounds bad enough already."

"It gets worse," Anna said sadly, "Because we are at war, my brother."

X X X

When Dean opened his eyes to see the familiar view of his apartment he nearly fell to his knees he was so relieved. He never wanted to do that again.

"That was new." Castiel murmured, watching Dean as he swayed slightly on his feet.

Dean didn't bother to respond, he was too busy reveling in the fact that he was still alive. It had been close, though. Far too close. He threw a glare at Castiel. Damn the angel for his lack of tact. He'd just barged right into the throne room of the fucking _King _of Saudi Arabia without even trying to hide the fact that he was an angel as Dean stumbled after him. And, well it'd all just gone downhill from there.

They'd just barely made it out of the palace as a group of angered soldiers chased after them, weapons held aloft in the classic mob style and each one vying for the honor of cutting off the angel's head. But at the very last minute Castiel had grabbed Dean's hand, and then before he knew it they were standing back in his family room.

"I never thought I'd be this happy to see my apartment," Dean sighed, still too relieved to think about anything else.

"I wonder what happened, though." Castiel mused, seeming genuinely bewildered by the outcome of their supposed 'recruiting' mission. "Things seemed to be going so well at first."

"No, Cas. Things were _not_ going well," Dean spat out in response. "You nearly got us _killed_ because we just waltzed into the fucking King's throne room without a plan!"

"Dean?" Another voice said.

Dean turned to see Sam peeking out from his room, eyes wide, and he smiled. "Oh, hey, Sammy! We just got back, obviously."

Sam returned the smile, "Well, I'm glad you're okay. And, uh, Gabriel's awake."

Castiel pushed past them both at these words, nearly knocking Sam over in his haste. And when he entered the room and saw Gabriel sitting perched on the edge of the bed, looking so casual in his existence as if he'd been there along, he nearly broke down. Instead he opted for simply tackling his brother in a gigantic hug that had Gabriel flailing in order to keep himself upright.

"Cas!" Gabriel gasped.

But Castiel didn't respond, choosing instead to merely bury his face in his older brother's shirt and sob quietly. Sam and Dean decided that was their cue to leave and so they retreated to the kitchen, Anna following in their wake, to let the two have their reunion in peace.

"So, how'd the important international mission go?" Anna wondered as she grabbed a few beers from the fridge, per the usual it seemed whenever they gathered in the kitchen like this.

"It sucked ass," Dean deadpanned. "What about you guys?"

Anna took a swig of her beer. "Well, besides Gabriel finally waking up, I heard that we managed to get a lot of humans rallied to our cause today. Already the number of 'Angel Allies', as they're calling themselves – and don't give me that look, Dean, I didn't come up with the name – has nearly increased to four digits."

"Wow, really?" Sam exclaimed, "That's awesome!"

"Yeah," Dean agreed, "I wonder if there's anything on the news about it yet."

"Probably not," Anna said as he grabbed the controls and switched the TV on. "It's still too early."

She was right. Dean flipped through the various news channels – local and national – but heard nothing save for a few mentions of Fallen raids and one or two scattered reports of survivors. Dean wondered if that was the doing of the Righteous and their _Angel Allies,_ but he had no way of knowing.

Balthazar chose just then to reappear right in front of Dean – seriously, just _inches _away from him. And even though the angel managed to catch himself before he crashed into the eldest Winchester, Dean still ended up giving a very un-manly shriek and falling back onto the couch, to which Balthazar burst out laughing.

"How very classy of you, Dean." The snarky angel remarked.

"Fuck you," Dean snarled back.

Balthazar shrugged. "For what it's worth, I didn't mean to land right in front of you. I'm just in a bit of a hurry seeing as I don't know how long I can stay." He laughed again, "I'm _on call_ in case Jo and her group need help convincing any of their new recruits about the Righteous and the Fallen."

Dean picked himself up with as much dignity as he could muster and gave a half-hearted shrug of interest at Balthazar's explanation, trying to ignore the fact that Sam was sniggering behind his hand and Anna was snorting into her bottle. He secretly began planning their deaths in his head, and also silently bet that either of them would've reacted the same way if Balthazar had fucking materialized in front of them out of fucking nowhere.

Just then Castiel and Gabriel emerged from Sam's room, and Dean tried not to notice the way his heart wrenched painfully when he saw that Castiel's eyes were still sort of red and puffy. He knew the tears the angel had shed were tears of joy, but for some reason the constricted feeling in Dean's chest made him want to go over and comfort him.

"Gabe!" Balthazar exclaimed when he saw the shorter angel, practically flying across the room to embrace his brother. The resulting wind created from his wings ended up knocking a few pictures off the wall and Dean groaned. Ah, the joys of harboring angels in your home were endless.

When Balthazar pulled away from Gabriel he grinned. "I have now officially had enough teary reunions this week to last me a life time."

Gabriel laughed and slapped Balthazar on the shoulder. "It's good to see you again, Balthy."

"You too, Gabe."

Dean resisted the urge to laugh. _Balthy?_

Anna stepped forward then, her bottle left forgotten on the kitchen counter. "Balthazar, I need to speak to Michael. It's important. Can you take me?"

"Sure thing," Balthazar agreed easily.

"I should come as well," Gabriel murmured, "I'd like to see everyone else, and I'm certain Michael and I will have much to discuss."

At this Sam suddenly looked disappointed, but he turned away to hide it quickly enough so that Dean was the only one who ended up seeing it. The eldest Winchester frowned and decided that he'd have to ask Sam about that later.

Balthazar nodded. "Let's go, then." He tossed Sam, Dean, and Castiel a wave. "See you later."

"I'll return when I'm done, Cas." Gabriel called out, "We've still got a lot to catch up on!"

And then they were gone.

Sam sighed, "I'm going to hit the hay," he muttered, looking entirely bummed-out. Dean could've sworn that his little brother's feet were dragging as he walked back to his room, and he had that wounded look in his eyes that sometimes reminded Dean of a kicked puppy.

Man, he was really depressed about something.

"What's wrong with Sam?" Castiel wondered.

Dean shrugged, "Who knows."

Now that he and Cas were alone again though, Dean felt the awkwardness start to seep back into the atmosphere. After their last adventure together – and after Dean had snapped at the angel, which he did feel bad for – he felt as if the wall between them had been built even higher than before, which sucked majorly, by the way, since Dean had _just _started to feel as if he and Cas could have an actual friendship . . . if nothing else.

"Cas?"

The angel glanced at him, stunning blue eyes steady and unblinking. "Yes?"

"I, uh, wanted to apologize – for yelling at you earlier."

Castiel's tense shoulders relaxed and he offered Dean a small smile. "You're already forgiven, Dean."

The wall between them shrank down a few sizes at that and Dean allowed himself a moment of relief. That felt better. Now if only he could take the wall down completely, but how on earth was he supposed to do that? Castiel made himself so unapproachable times, it seemed almost deliberate.

"Hey, come here, Cas." Dean said suddenly as a wild, suicidal, and all-around stupid idea began forming in his head.

Castiel followed him to his room, tilting his head to the side a bit as they entered. He hadn't been in Dean's room yet, but it was considerably cleaner than he thought. Dean seemed like one of those people who'd just throw his clothes on the ground and never really get around to picking them up, but in actuality his room was so clean it was nearly spotless.

The angel ran his hands over a shelf of books on assorted subjects, ranging from ancient tomes on lore to modern sci-fi novels and all that settled in-between. "You like to read?"

Dean nodded and sat down on the edge of his bed. "Yeah, it helps me relax after a long day of work."

"I see." Castiel's eyes skimmed over a few of the titles, not really reading them. He could feel Dean's eyes on him. And if he concentrated hard enough, Castiel swore he could almost _hear _Dean thinking, turning the cogs in his head as he mulled over whatever problem he was currently munching on.

"Are relationships between angels and humans forbidden?" Dean asked suddenly.

Castiel turned to stare at him, wondering where the odd question had come from. "Do you mean as in . . . intimate relationships?"

Dean nodded.

"No, they're not forbidden." Castiel said. "They're just rare."

"Ah . . ." Dean was quiet for a bit longer before he continued. "What about humans and angels of the same sex?"

Castiel's blue eyes stared harder at the human, as if hoping he could penetrate Dean's skull and read his mind. What on earth was he thinking? And why was he asking such strange questions? Castiel had a strange feeling that he knew where the questions were going, but . . . no, that couldn't possibly be it.

"I don't think the topic has ever been brought up . . ." Castiel replied slowly, "But since it's not forbidden between humans, I don't see why not."

"Oh."

_Oh?_ Castiel frowned, _there has to be more to it than that._

When moments passed though, and Dean just sat there, looking down at his hands, Castiel turned back to browse through the books. But he had to wonder at Dean's strange behavior. He'd never acted like that around Castiel before, had he? So, why now? Had something changed between them that the angel hadn't noticed?

"Cas . . ."

He turned, surprised to see that Dean had stood and moved closer to him. "Is something wrong, Dean?"

"No . . ." Dean murmured, his voice soft as he moved closer. "Nothing's wrong, Cas. Nothing at all."

A strange sensation suddenly manifested itself in the pit of Castiel's stomach – a sort of rocking, roiling feeling, as if he were on a boat in the middle of an angry sea. He backed away when Dean came closer, nauseous with uncertainty, and suddenly found himself pressed back against the wall. Now of course, it'd be simple indeed for him to escape, but that would mean harming Dean in the process, which he did not want to do. And besides, despite the churning feeling in his gut, he was curious, because he had no idea what was going on or what Dean was doing, and it intrigued him.

Humans had always intrigued him.

"Dean?" He ventured, wondering if maybe he'd get a response out of the human this time.

But, rather than saying anything, Dean moved forward quickly, closing the minute space between them, and pressed his lips to the angel's.

Then it was as if someone had dropped a nuclear bomb, and the wall that had previously stood erect between the two was obliterated as Dean's mouth took over Castiel's. He pressed the angel back against the wall with a bit more force, hands searching, wandering under Castiel's shirt, feeling the warm skin underneath. And Castiel, without even thinking about it, wrapped his arms around Dean's waist to pull him closer and deepen the contact.

It got frantic then. Dean nibbled on Cas's lower lip, gaining a soft moan from the angel, and slid his tongue inside his mouth. It was warm and wet and hot as all hell, and Dean felt as if he couldn't get enough of it. He pressed his body up against Castiel's insistently, removing what little space had remained there, and groaned low in his throat as Cas's knee accidentally rubbed against his hardening cock.

Suddenly a great force, like a blast of wind, pushed Dean away from Castiel and onto the bed where he landed with a yelp, entirely confused as to what had just happened. Propping himself up on his elbows he stared at Castiel, bewildered.

The angel, meanwhile, looked terrified out of his wits. His vibrant blue eyes, usually so calm and cool, were wild and unhinged, and his hair was mussed from where Dean's fingers had been tugging on it. He looked frightened, cowering against the wall like a scared child, and suddenly Dean felt as if he'd done something wrong.

"Cas . . . ?" He asked softly, reaching out to the angel.

Fear seeped into Castiel's eyes then, a fear so great it actually made Dean take a few steps back in surprise. And before he could react further, the angel was gone, the sound of wings the only thing attesting to his departure.

Dean stood motionless for a few moments, unsure and confused and wishing he knew what had just happened. But finally he ended up simply sitting back down on the edge of the bed and resting his head in his hands. He felt like a dick – a complete and total dick. He'd had no right to do that to Castiel so suddenly, not without even asking the angel's permission. And the memory the fear he'd seen in Castiel's eyes made him feel sick to his stomach.

_But . . . he kissed me back._

Yeah, that's right. For a moment there, Castiel _had_ returned the kiss – he was sure of it. So then why had he fled? And why had he been so afraid? None of this made any sense, and Dean suddenly wanted to rip all of his hair out by the roots. But that wouldn't bring Cas back, and it wouldn't make him feel better.

_Shit._


	11. Fiction and Fact

In the past whenever Castiel ran from something, his memories always ended up leading him back to the same place. Though, that's understandable. When one's upset or scared or just downright confused, they generally retreat to where they can feel safe and warm, a place they can be alone to think – a sanctuary.

And Castiel's sanctuary, of course, was Heaven. But he knew it by another name.

_Home._

However, when he found himself standing under the perfect blue sky and golden fields of Heaven, it was not peace and silence that greeted him, but chaos. Pure chaos, it seemed, had engulfed the entirety of his home, and all his brothers and sisters were gathered in the meadow, jostling about and shouting. As Castiel took a moment to figure out what was going on though, he saw that in the middle of all the noise was Gabriel, his smile wide and his eyes alight with happiness as he embraced his kin, happy to be home for the first time in three years.

Oh, all the chaos made sense now.

The happy scene before him made the clouds lift slightly from his thoughts, but as he watched Michael press a loving kiss to Gabriel's cheek, tears in his eyes, Castiel had to turn away. He had no place in this moment, not with such impenetrable darkness accompanying his heart and soul. Feeling sick he found himself leaving, practically running in the other direction just to get away from the picture of his happy family welcoming their long-lost brother back.

And just that thought alone made him feel terrible for doing it. But it seemed as if he'd made a habit of running from his problems lately.

_. . . Dean . . ._

The memory of the kiss hit him like a battering ram, and Castiel just barely made it away from the prying eyes of his fellow Righteous in time for the tears to come. They were slow at first, just gathering behind his eyelids, but by the time he got to a quieter part of Heaven – the special place he went when even the company of his family did not soothe him – he could no longer hold the tears back.

They built up gradually; gathering like a wall of clouds before the inevitable rain. And when they finally came there was nothing Castiel could do to stop them. He sobbed quietly, not even sure why he was crying, and wrapped his arms tightly around himself as he slowly lowered himself down to sit on the mossy ground.

It didn't make any sense. None of it did. Not the war, not Dean, not the kiss, not Gabriel's escape, not Anna's return – it all seemed meaningless in the face of the fact that Castiel realized then and there to be the pure, unadulterated truth.

_He was in love with Dean Winchester._

And to make matters worse, he had no idea whatsoever how it had happened. But as the tears receded and the calming warmth of his home wrapped around him, he felt a bit better. Not at peace, surely not. But at the very least he was able to pull himself together.

When he finally got his bearings back he looked up, taking in the beauty of the place he now looked upon. When he'd been younger, and so much more naïve to the ways of his kin and the ways of humans, he'd come here often to be alone. And so it was now. The gentle bubbling of the creek at his side, the soothing whisper of the cool breeze drifting through the trees, the beautiful canopy of green throwing dappled shadows across the forest floor, and the soft texture of the moss underfoot all combined together to create a place that Castiel could truly call _his_.

And, as far as he knew, there was only one other angel who knew of this place. One other angel who'd ever found him there, nestled underneath his favorite tree. And despite the fact that the last thing Castiel wanted was to talk, that angel happened to be standing right behind him.

Castiel sighed. "I know you're there."

He caught a flash of white wings out of the corner of his eye as Balthazar sat down, and then for a few moments there was nothing but silence, as if Balthazar understood that he needed it. But as the quiet drudged on Castiel felt suddenly restless and he began to fear he might burst if he didn't speak his mind. And surely, of all the angels, Balthazar would understand, right? He wouldn't judge him, would he?

It was worth a shot.

"He kissed me." Castiel blurted out.

His brother's ice-blue eyes slowly moved to regard him and, to Castiel's everlasting chagrin, Balthazar grinned at him. "Oh, Cas. Anyone could've seen that coming."

Castiel felt even more embarrassed by the fact that Balthazar didn't even have to ask who he was talking about. "But, I . . . Balthazar, I kissed him back."

"And?"

Castiel stared at him. "What do you mean '_and?_'"

"Is that all?" Balthazar clarified. "I mean, really, Cassie. We all knew it. We all saw it coming. There was so much tension between you too it was palpable. Anna mentioned it to me the day we reunited, Gabriel noticed it, and even _Michael _knew of it."

Castiel paled. "Michael did?"

"You know that there's nothing wrong with it, right?"

Castiel looked down at his hands, remembering how he'd wrapped them around Dean's neck and how good it felt when his body had pressed against the taller man's, or how amazing the feel of Dean's lips – moist and soft and his mouth so hot – had felt as they kissed. And the way Dean had pressed him up against the wall, so demanding and possessive. Castiel suppressed a shiver of excitement and squeezed his eyes shut.

"Yes, I know . . . I know," he murmured. "That's not the problem."

"Then what is?" Balthazar asked, genuinely concerned for his brother.

"W-well, it's just that . . . when we kissed it felt so – so _rushed._ I felt as if Dean was planning on taking it further than just that, and I don't . . . I mean I haven't . . ." Castiel gestured helplessly, hoping Balthazar would help him out.

But his brother was just staring back at him blankly. "What?"

"Well, you see I've never . . . and I don't know _how_ . . . and, uh, I mean . . ."

Understanding lit up Balthazar's face suddenly as he got what Castiel was implying, and then he was grinning, his eyes twinkling with that evil look that Castiel knew promised teasing. "Cas, are you telling me that you're a virgin?" 

Castiel ran a hand through his hair. "I thought it was obvious."

Balthazar was obviously resisting the urge to laugh for his sake. "Cas, if that's the only reason you ran when he kissed you, then you have nothing to worry about." He got to his feet, his mirth dissipating suddenly to be replaced by a tender, loving look that was entirely uncharacteristic to him. "Dean won't force you into anything, little brother. I've seen the way he looks at you."

Castiel was silent as Balthazar left, mulling over all his brother had said. He wished suddenly that things would go back to the way they were before, uncomplicated and clean-cut. But it was no use trying to banish the truth from his mind. Because no matter how he looked at it, Balthazar was right.

X X X

It was a beautiful day outside.

The sun was out, bathing everything in its warmth, and a cool wind blew through the trees, providing the perfect amount of relief from the heat the sun brought with it. Everyone had slowly begun to emerge from their homes, tentatively hopeful after two whole days with no reports of angel raids, and Dean knew that he should be happy. Things were looking up. The Righteous had rallied many more humans to their cause, and though they weren't universally known yet, people had started to notice.

He _should_ be happy. But he wasn't.

He'd told Sam earlier that morning he was going for a walk. That had been nearly three hours ago, and yet he was still walking. The idea of going back to the apartment, with its walls and claustrophobic stuffiness and Sam's pouting (he still wasn't sure why Sam was so bummed out), made him want to bang his head against something solid and preferably brick. He didn't want to go back.

And honestly, the fact that he hadn't been able to sleep at all the night before had made his restless need to get out even worse. He'd tossed and turned for hours trying to dispel the lingering feeling of Castiel's lips on his, but that had been entirely impossible. And finally, after a cold shower, exercise, and copious amounts of alcohol had done nothing to get rid of the lust building inside of him, Dean had fallen into a shallow, fitful sleep after jerking himself off shamelessly to the idea of Castiel's beautiful lips around his cock. But that had left him to wake up just an hour later with a heavy feeling of guilt and the realization that he was lower than the dirt under his shoes.

After that, he'd gone so stir-crazy he'd nearly started to _literally_ climb the walls of his apartment. That had sort of been his cue to go. And now three hours later there he was, lounging on a bench in the same park he and Cas had gone to find Balthazar just the day before while trying to forget the storm of feelings raging around inside of him as he watched the children play and the men jog and the women gossip about their day around him.

"Dean?"

He turned, entirely surprised to hear someone calling his name, and blinked as he saw a familiar woman with long blonde hair standing there. She was young, and beautiful, and held herself with a confident air, and Dean knew that he'd seen her before, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Uhhh . . ."

She smiled. "I'm Jo Harvelle. I was here with Balthazar when you and that other angel came here the other day, remember?"

Oh, yeah. Dean remembered now. She was the one Balthazar had saved, the one who'd created the _Angel Allies _or whatever they were called. "Jo, yeah, I remember."

She smiled, taking that as an invitation to join him, and sat down on the bench. "So, Dean – you okay? You seem a bit down."

"I'm fine." Dean said shortly. There was no way he was going to bitch to some girl he barely knew about his romantic problems considering a certain angel – and damn, that sounded really weird when he actually summed it all up.

"Oh, okay." She replied easily.

They sat in silence for a bit longer, both watching the world turn around them. Dean spared a sideways glance at Jo, noting that – while beautiful – to him she was nowhere near Castiel's level of attractiveness. Then again, Dean always had gone more for the guys than the girls. But he wasn't about to tell her that either.

Why was he thinking about this again?

"So, that angel you were with," Jo said suddenly, "What was his name?"

"Cas – uh, Castiel." Dean said.

"Yeah, him," she nodded. "You know, I could hardly believe my eyes when I saw him the other day. I mean, I knew that angels were always rumored to be flawlessly beautiful – even the evil ones like the Fallen – but I never thought they'd be_ that_ exquisite."

Dean nodded, "He is beautiful, isn't he?"

Jo blinked and stared at him, her eyes wide and sort of surprised, and only when Dean realized what he'd said did the heat begin to creep up his neck. Embarrassed, he got to his feet, ready to leave with what few shreds of dignity he had left, but he was stopped as Jo grabbed his shoulder.

"Is he the reason you're so down?" She asked softly.

Dean shrugged her hand off, refusing to meet her eyes. "You don't know anything."

"Yeah, that may be true," she agreed, "But considering the way I saw you two interacting the other day, I'd say he feels the same way." She smiled then and spun on her heel without another word, leaving Dean to watch her go.

And slowly but surely, hope began to blossom in his chest at her words.

_Maybe she's right . . ._

X X X

Sam plopped down onto the couch with a heavy sigh, groaning inwardly as he flipped through the channels and saw that there was nothing on. Oh, perfect. Just what he needed.

The youngest Winchester sighed heavily and shut the TV off, staring blankly at it for a few moments as he considered what else he could do. A metaphorical storm cloud had been following him around all day, messing with his mood until it was as dark as the powerless TV screen, and he had no idea why. Also, Dean had been out since early that morning, taking a walk or some shit, and he hadn't come back yet even though it was already night time, which meant that Sam had absolutely _nothing_ with which to distract himself.

And he couldn't, for the life of him, stop thinking about Gabriel. But again he had no idea why. He was as lost about that as he was about the current state of his bad mood. It was pulling at his mind, making him want to rip his hair out and just scream at the top of his lungs. And every time he shut his eyes all he saw were eyes the color of honey and the dark green of the forest framed with hair that was a beautiful, silky color of dark blonde and lips that looked so _tempting_ . . .

Sam shook his head. _What is wrong with me?_

He started in surprise as the lights suddenly went out, leaving him in darkness. Surprised and confused, he got up quickly wondering why the lights would have gone out. It wasn't storming or anything, and they'd paid their electric bill, so that couldn't be it. A bit unsure, he fumbled for his phone to use as a flashlight so he could find his way to the fuse box. It was next to their washer and dryer, just down the hall. But as he made his way to it he saw that it was already open and . . . and it looked as if the wires had been cut.

Sam froze, suddenly wary, and turned to glance back down the hallway as paranoia crept up on him. He slipped back down the hall, noticing that the door to his room was open when he was sure that he'd shut it, and he also saw that the window was open too, the curtains fluttering in the breeze.

Now thoroughly freaked out, Sam quickly began to dial his brother's number, his anxiety growing as it rang once . . . twice . . . three times . . .

_Come on, man. Pick up._

And on the fifth ring, Dean finally answered.

"_Oh hey, Sam," _his brother said cheerily._ "Sorry I've been out so long, but I'll be back soon. How's pizza sound –"_

"Dean," Sam interrupted, "Dean, I think someone's – someone's broken into our house."

"_. . . What?"_

"There's someone here, Dean." Sam gasped, his voice quivering. "The – the lights went out and my window's open and someone cut the wires in the f-fuse box. You've got to get back here, Dean. Please." There were tears in his eyes now and he swallowed hard, having trouble keeping it together.

"_Look, I'll get Cas and we'll be there soon, alright?" _Dean said hurriedly, obviously as on-edge as his little brother._ "Everything's going to be okay."_

"Just – just hurry, Dean." Sam sobbed.

"_I will. I won't let anything happen to you, Sammy. You know that, don't you? Listen to me – you know that. And you're safe, I promise. Don't worry."_

Sam clutched the phone tighter, letting Dean's voice soothe him as took deep breaths to calm himself down. Dean was right – he'd be there soon, and then everything would be okay. And Sam trusted his brother, because Dean never broke his promises.

But this time was different.

Sam heard the creak of the floorboards mere _seconds_ too late, and he spun around, bringing his hands up to protect himself. But he wasn't fast enough as something to hit him across the head, effectively incapacitating him, and he fell to the floor with a grunt, the phone falling from his limp fingers and skidding across the floor.

The last thing he heard before everything went black was Dean's frantic voice wafting out of the phone's speaker, calling his name.

"_Sam, are you there? Sam? Sam!"_


	12. Fear and Pain

**A/N: I am so, so sorry for not updating this more often. Life is currently a bit more demanding than usual, and I'm having to compensate with many hours of sleep deprivation. Anyway, I am definitely going to work more on this in the days to come. And I hope you all are enjoying it as much as I am! ^^**

* * *

><p>It was dark.<p>

Though, from Sam's point of view, that was an understatement. It was not dark so much as it was empty. It was like all life and warmth had been sucked from whatever hellhole he resided in, and the darkness around him moved and breathed as if it were a sentient being. He could not see _anything_.

Restraints held him down on something that felt cold and metal, like some sort of steel table. He could not speak due to the gag in his mouth, and at that moment he felt so terribly hopeless that he wanted to cry. And in the end, after holding it back for so long, he _did _cry.

The tears blurred his vision, but it didn't matter. All that was there to see was black upon more black anyway; a painful absence of light with no horizon, and Sam wished he could escape it. But all that greeted him when he closed his eyes was more darkness. The fear finally took over and he began to sob, great gasping sobs that left him cradling a heavy heart in trembling hands. And only when he heard a sudden noise that was out of place in the darkness – like the creaking of a door swinging open on its hinges – did he stifle his tears and freeze up, straining to figure out what he'd heard. As he listened, though, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching – soft and nearly silent. He would not have heard them if he hadn't been paying close attention.

The footsteps stopped, and Sam felt a hand touch his shoulder, causing him to jump in surprise and rear back. But the hand gripped him tighter, stopping him from moving any further, and he went completely still as he felt the tell-tale whisper of breath ghosting across his cheek. Whoever was there had leaned closer – close enough to kiss him if they'd wanted to.

Sam trembled, trying desperately to hold back the fear bubbling up inside of him. What was going on?

"_Sam Winchester,"_ a rasping voice murmured suddenly. _"You will tell us all you know."_

X X X

Castiel was still sitting in that clearing by the water, trying to decide what to do, when he heard someone calling him. It wasn't the normal sort of call, though. More like a whisper of his name on the wind. And as he paused to listen it became clear. Someone was _praying _for him.

_Dean . . ._

He got to his feet immediately and flared out his wings, prepared to take flight without a second's hesitation. Dean needed him, and that was all that mattered. With this thought in mind he was gone from Heaven instantly, reappearing moments later in the Winchester's apartment. But what greeted him there was not what he expected. The apartment was dim, lit by a few scattered candles, which was odd. And then before Castiel had a chance to react, Dean, his eyes full of tears and his expression contorted in worry and pain, grabbed him the second he arrived and slammed him back against the wall. And, despite the fact that Dean hadn't hurt him, the angel was definitely taken off-guard. He'd never seen Dean this out of control before.

"Dean?" He gasped, a bit breathless by how fast everything had happened in the last few seconds. "What's happened? What's wrong?"

"It's Sammy, Cas." Dean choked out, his jade green eyes searching Castiel's own cloudless-sky blue. "He's gone. Someone – someone _took_ him."

Castiel's eyes narrowed. "How do you know?"

Dean relayed how Sam had called him, frantic and paranoid, only to disappear moments after the call began, and he told how he'd gone back to the apartment, only to find the wires in the fuse box cut, Sam's phone lying abandoned on the ground, and the place torn apart. And that was when he'd prayed for Castiel to come, knowing he had nowhere else to turn.

"I – I need your help, Cas." Dean gasped when he'd finished, "This is Sam – he's my little brother. He's all I have left and I can't lose him. _Please_, Cas. We – we have to do something." He gripped Castiel's trench coat tighter in his fists, bowing his head to hide his tears, and Castiel saw then how truly close to the edge Dean was.

"Dean – _Dean_, listen to me," Castiel said calmly, his voice strong and unwavering. "We're going to get him back, alright? We'll find out who did this, and we _will_ get him back."

"How?" Dean demanded.

Castiel smiled, "Trust me, Dean. I know someone who can help." Dean watched him with teary eyes and Castiel looked away, taking a deep breath before he called out silently for his brother. There was a beat of silence during which nothing happened, and then a gust of wind tore through the room and suddenly Michael was standing there.

Dean stared, his eyes wide. "Who are you?"

"I am Michael." The archangel replied. His gray-green eyes flicked over to regard Castiel and he tilted his head, "I heard your call, Castiel. I know what's happened."

Hope filled Dean's eyes. "Are – are you going to help us find Sam?"

"Yes." Michael said. "In fact, I'll put my best solider on it." He glanced at Castiel. "Well, my _second_-best."

Castiel resisted the urge to grin, knowing who Michael was talking about, as the archangel nodded to him. Cas gave him a short bow in reply, and then he was gone; swept away on the wind. Dean stared at the place he'd stood and shook his head. "That was an archangel?"

"Yes," Castiel murmured.

Dean continued to stare, but after a few moments he snapped out of the trance he'd been in, his eyes going frantic once more. "Who is he sending to find Sam?" He demanded. "And how long will it take? Can we trust him?"

"He's sending Balthazar," Castiel said, trying to calm Dean down. "And I promise you that he will do everything in his power to get Sam back."

"But how long will it take?"

"I . . . don't know, Dean."

"You don't _know?_" His voice cracked on the last syllable.

"Dean –"

"Sam's probably scared out of his wits, Cas. All alone, in the dark – and what if . . . what if whoever took him . . . what if they're torturinghim?"

"_Dean_ –"

"I couldn't live with myself if something happened to him, Cas. He's my responsibility. And after all he's already been through with our parents . . . he doesn't need this. He's just a _kid!_"

Castiel could feel Dean's growing anxiety, roiling around inside him like a rabid dog, and it was only then that he realized Dean was inconsolable. The angel floundered, wondering what to do. Dean would be no use to anyone in this state. Castiel needed some way to calm him down, to get him to focus and stay on task, for at the moment that was the best thing he could do for his brother.

And then, like a flash of inspiration, Castiel suddenly knew what he had to do. So he grabbed Dean's shoulders and pulled him forward, slamming their lips together. Dean's eyes were wide at first, startled and completely caught off-guard, but then as Castiel continued to kiss him he melted into it, pulling the angel closer and deepening the contact. When they finally pulled away it felt like hours had passed, and neither said anything for a long while. They just stared into each other's eyes – green upon blue – until Castiel finally broke the silence.

"We'll find him, Dean. I promise." The angel murmured. "_Have faith_."

X X X

Balthazar frowned as he glanced around the empty clearing. This had been where he'd last seen Cas, he was sure of it. His brother had been sitting moodily on that lump of moss when Balthazar had left, and to be honest he'd expected Castiel to pout there for a least a few hours longer. But his brother was nowhere to be seen.

_Where did he go?_

Wondering if searching for Castiel's grace would work, Balthazar laid down on his stomach on the forest floor. The moss felt nice and cool against his skin, and as he closed his eyes and felt himself relax his grace stretched out, searching for his wayward brother.

"Balthazar." Michael's voice came from above him. "What are you doing?"

The angel pushed himself to all fours and offered Michael a grin, entirely unsurprised at the archangel's sudden appearance. "Looking for Cas," he replied. "Have you seen him?"

"He's with Dean Winchester."

"Is he, now?" Balthazar grinned, wondering at the implications.

Michael didn't respond to his question. "Something's happened, Balthazar."

Balthazar's smile fell and he glanced up at Michael, instantly worried, for his brother only ever used that tone in a dire circumstance. Then that meant that something had gone wrong. _Bad _wrong. "What is it?"

"Sam Winchester has been taken."

Balthazar felt himself go still. "Was it the Fallen?"

"I'm afraid so."

Balthazar nodded. "What do you need me to do?"

"I've appointed you as the leader of the search team that will look for Sam. Forget all previous orders, Balthazar. This is your first and only priority." The archangel said sternly. "You may take with you whomever you wish. But be quick; time is running short."

Balthazar bowed to him respectfully. "I'll get started immediately."

Michael nodded and disappeared amidst the whispering of rustling leaves, and Balthazar was left to think over what the archangel had said. Sam had been kidnapped by the Fallen? But _why?_ What did they want with him? I mean sure, he'd been in contact with quite a few Righteous, but he didn't hardly know anything. In fact, they would've been much better off capturing Dean.

So why Sam?

Pushing these questions aside for later, Balthazar spread his wings and willed himself from Heaven, for there was someone he needed to see before he started his mission. Michael had told him that he could choose whomever he wanted to go with him, and he knew without a doubt his first choice. But he also knew that she wasn't expecting him, so it wasn't surprising that she gasped and nearly fell off her bed when he appeared to her in the middle of her bedroom.

"Hello, Jo." Balthazar said in greeting.

Joanna Beth Harvelle blinked a few times in response, trying to regain her composure after the fright he'd given her, and stared, quite unused to seeing an angel standing in her room. "Balthazar . . ."

"I need your help, Jo." He murmured.

Jo's chocolate-brown eyes watched him levelly a few moments, and then she smiled. "I am at your service."

X X X

Gabriel had no idea what he was feeling.

He'd heard of Sam Winchester's kidnapping, but for some reason a vicious, unrelenting anger had boiled up inside of him at the news, one that he couldn't rid himself of. And now it ate at him. He needed to do something. He couldn't just sit there, waiting for Balthazar to save the day and bring Sam back.

To be honest, he was quite prepared to go off after the young human by himself when Michael suddenly appeared. At first Gabriel thought it was to give him some worthless mission he could care less about, or perhaps even forbid him from going after Sam. But what happened instead was the exact opposite. And when Michael propositioned him to join the search for Sam Winchester, Gabriel didn't even hesitate in his answer as he silently promised to find Sam himself.

And those who had taken him would curse the day they'd ever dared to touch the youngest Winchester.


	13. Again and Again

**A/N: There's an NC-17 warning for this chapter. I hope my smut isn't too fail ^^"**

**Also, I'm going to work out a system of updating this on a more regular basis. April is a busy month though, especially with my birthday and graduation coming up soon. But, just to let you all know, I am never going to abandon this fic. I love it to death and I enjoy writing it, and no matter how long it takes me to update it, abandonment is not an option for me. So rest assured, I will finish it.**

**. . . eventually OTL**

* * *

><p>Dean paced the length of his living room repeatedly, arms crossed over his chest and a look of loathing plastered defiantly on his face. Michael had ordered him to stay there in his apartment with Castiel until Sam was returned, because the last thing they needed was <em>another <em>missing Winchester. So basically he was on house-arrest, which pissed him off to no end. And if it weren't for Castiel's presence, Dean would already be gone and joining the search for his brother.

As it were, Castiel was trying to calm Dean down – and failing.

"Dean, the others are handling it, okay?"

"He's _my _brother!" Dean snapped. "_I_ should be allowed to look for him!"

Castiel sighed. "You're only human, Dean."

"No shit, Sherlock."

Hurt, Castiel looked down at his hands. He knew it wasn't Dean's fault that he was in a bad mood, but he could at least tone it down a bit. The sarcasm was biting, rolling off of Dean's tongue like poison, and Castiel kept his head bowed, not wanting to see the tension and fear in the man's eyes.

He didn't like it.

"I'm just trying to help, Dean."

The words slipped from his mouth before he could even think about what he'd said, and suddenly the room went very quiet. When Castiel looked up, wings fluttering anxiously, it was only to see Dean staring at him with something akin to an apology in his dark-green eyes.

"You're right, Cas. I'm sorry," Dean said softly. "I shouldn't be taking this out on you."

Castiel looked back down at his hands, awkward. "It's alright."

"No, it isn't." Dean's voice was suddenly closer, and when the angel looked back up at him their faces were mere inches apart. "It isn't alright."

Castiel felt his breath get stuck in his throat and he stared back at the taller man, eyes wide. They stayed there like that for what felt like hours, eyes as blue as a cloudless sky locked with ones the color of the forest floor, before Dean finally grabbed him by the shoulders and kissed him.

It was a slow kiss. Castiel's lips were soft and pliant, while Dean's – though they were a bit firmer than the angel's – were just as gentle. They stood together, nearly falling over as Dean led them to his bedroom and deposited Castiel on the bed.

"I need you," Dean murmured, his voice broken as he crawled onto the mattress and straddled Castiel's hips. "I need you now."

Castiel nodded, eyes dark with lust. "_Yes._" He murmured, because even though he was confused, even though he'd been taken completely off-guard, even though this was all going way too fast, he suddenly didn't mind, for now he realized that he needed Dean as much as Dean needed him. And in that moment of revelation he pulled the human down, sealing their lips once more.

That second kiss, so fervent and frantic, was like the metaphorical dam finally breaking open. And then it was all careful fingers dancing over heated flesh and sloppy kisses and Dean's tongue on his neck, and Castiel could hardly take it all in at once. He groaned, arching up into Dean's touch, and gasped as a hand trailed down his pants, stroking something down there that made his body _hum _with excitement.

"Dean –" he gasped, "I don't . . . I've never –"

"It's alright, Cas. I'll be gentle."

And Castiel relaxed then, because he trusted Dean. He'd have to, in order to let him do something like this. To give him such open roam of his body; of his flesh. Sudden gentle fingers running through his feathers jolted him back from his thoughts and he groaned softly, the sound climbing in volume as Dean found that special spot on his back just under his right wing that made him see stars.

Dean smiled, "What's this?" He murmured playfully, stroking the spot again and watching as Castiel moaned a bit louder and bucked his hips up into the air involuntarily. "Do you like that?"

The angel nodded, wings fluttering excitedly as his grace writhed inside of him, caught up in the range of emotions flowing through his body. He needed this so badly, and Dean was giving it to him. Slowly, yes - but giving it all the same. And just when he thought he couldn't take the teasing anymore, Dean began to stroke him faster, gripping and twisting and running his fingers over the head until Castiel was nothing but a mess of feathers and gasping moans. And when he finally released, he released _hard_, spilling himself all over Dean's hand.

The eldest Winchester didn't seem to mind though.

Castiel took a moment to regain his composure, breathing heavily while his heart pounded the spots out of his vision. He'd never felt anything like that before, and the aftermath was just as – if not more – pleasurable than the actual experience. He felt warm and calm, sort of content, as if everything in his life had led up to this moment. And when Dean straightened from where he was sitting, as if he was going to get up, Castiel followed him, determined to do his part. "My turn," he murmured, taking Dean's hand and pushing him down onto the bed.

Dean stared up at him, eyes wide with surprise and maybe just a hint of uncertainty, but Castiel shushed him. Sure he was a bit new to this, but he'd gotten the gist of what to do from Dean's performance. And moments later when he had Dean crying out his name and begging for more, he decided he'd done something right.

They both had.

X X X

Jo and Balthazar were not surprised when Gabriel met them in the street outside her house. They'd be expecting him.

Well, Balthazar had. Jo was admittedly surprised, but she wasn't about to show it. The sudden appearance of a new angel she'd never met – while a bit jarring – was nowhere near as terrifying as it'd used to be, especially now that she could easily tell the difference between the Righteous and the Fallen.

"Hello, Gabriel," Balthazar said in greeting.

Gabriel tilted his head in acknowledgement. "This is the girl you've been working with?" He asked.

"I'm Jo." She replied.

Gabriel nodded his head. "I am Gabriel." He said, and Balthazar noticed suddenly, with a degree of concern, that his brother's trademark snarky tone was gone. That was unusual – and it was also a bad sign. How seriously was he taking Sam Winchester's kidnapping?

_He was our friend, certainly. But Gabriel hardly knows him. So why is he acting this way?_

"Are we going to go find the Winchester boy then, or are we just going to stand here?" Gabriel snapped, his voice taught.

Balthazar gave him a look. "Gabriel –"

"Hey!"

The sudden shout made them all turn to see Anna running toward them, red hair flying in the wind and green eyes wide. She seemed frustrated by the fact that she couldn't fly as she used to, but Balthazar was having a hard time pitying her for that. Yes, he'd missed his sister terribly. But he couldn't help being a bit angry at her for leaving them the way she had.

"I'm coming with you." Anna said, her tone final, as she finally got close.

Gabriel frowned. "Michael-"

"He knows." Anna said. "He sent me to meet you."

Balthazar nodded. "Well, the more the merrier, I suppose. We could use all the help we can get."

"One question," Jo interrupted as Balthazar grabbed her hand and Gabriel took Anna's, preparing for flight. "How are we going to find Sam?"

"The Fallen have a specific aura about them that leaks into the air wherever they are," Balthazar explained, "That's how we always know where they've struck. So if we follow the trail they left from the Winchester's apartment –"

"- Then we find Sam." Jo finished.

"Exactly."

"So that's how you knew for sure it was the Fallen who took Sam, then?"

Balthazar nodded. "Yes, Castiel relayed the information back to Michael after Dean called him to the apartment. Their stench is rather hard to miss."

Jo nodded. That made sense.

"Shall we go then?"

"Yes," Gabriel said shortly, his tone urgent. "Let's."

X X X

_Drip . . . drip . . . drip_

The incessant sound of water hitting cold stone woke Sam from his feverish sleep to face a darkness known only in nightmares. But unfortunately, this was reality. No matter how much he wished it was all just a bad dream, everything happening here – everything that _had _happened – was terrifyingly, horribly real. So – scared, cold, and alone – he huddled in on himself, wincing as it bothered the angry cuts crisscrossing on the skin of his back and the still-sore bruises on his face and arms that were slowly turning black-and-blue. The wounds brought back memories of what they – the Fallen – had done to him on that table in that room of writhing darkness. What they'd made him endure.

_Torture._

A gasping sob forced itself from Sam's throat. Despite the fact that he now knew who his captors were – it was hard to mistake those midnight-black wings for anything other than the fallen kin of the Righteous – it did nothing to calm him down. All he could do now was hope that Dean and the other angels knew this too and were already on their way to find him. But as Sam huddled down once again, praying silently for a rescuer to come and save him, it wasn't Dean he prayed for anymore.

No, it was someone else entirely.

_Please . . . Gabriel . . ._


	14. Heal and Protect

Despite the battle raging around him Gabriel had time to feel thankful, because at least they were in the middle of a field rather than a city. So now there were no humans to get caught in the crossfire. However, the reason for their odd location was due entirely to the Fallen. Gabriel, Anna, Jo, and Balthazar had followed their scent here from the Winchester's apartment, and while they'd been sort of confused at first – because why would the Fallen take Sam back to an empty field? – it soon became clear.

The new moon had given them little light to see by, but as they made their way to the very heart of the field they saw it – a large, dark pit in the ground. Terrifying, bottomless, and something straight out of a nightmare; it beckoned to them, and from it Gabriel could feel the aura of his Fallen kin wafting into the night air.

"Sam is there." Balthazar said. "Down at the very bottom."

It had been a sobering statement, for the realization that someone was going to have to go down into the hellhole to retrieve the youngest Winchester came with it. But before they could decide how to proceed, before they even got within twenty feet of the pit, a battalion of Fallen stepped out of the air, blocking the way as they brandished their flaming swords.

And that's when the battle began.

Caught in the middle, Gabriel had no choice but to fight all out. His powers – being an archangel – were stronger than Balthazar's, and while Anna could still fight, her powers were gone along with her wings and her grace. And even though Jo could fight as well, she was at even more of a disadvantage. Therefore, Gabriel was the only reasonable choice. He had to fight his way through and then descend into the pit and rescue Sam.

He was worried, though. He didn't want to abandon his three friends, not with only one Righteous between them. But just as this thought crossed his mind another of his brothers appeared, obviously sent by Michael to help. Gabriel resisted the urge to smile. It was Jophiel, the angel who'd always been known as soft-spoken, empathetic, and prone to worry about anything, everything, and everyone. Also, he was admittedly one of Gabriel's best friends. But right now he was a warrior. His blue eyes flashed as he caught Gabriel's stare, and he began gesturing wildly at the bottomless pit, his wings fluttering with anxiety.

"Go, Gabriel!" He cried, his voice somehow heard above the din of battle. "You must save the Winchester boy! _Go!_"

Gabriel needed no further prodding. Without a word he saluted his fellow and then turned and dove into the pit.

Dark, rancid air tousled his hair and the feathers on the wings he had folded against his back as he half-fell, half-flew down the pit, past miles and miles of levels, and he had to wonder how deep it would go, for it seemed that this pit _was _actually bottomless. It went on forever! But finally he felt a change in the air around him, a shift as if there was earth somewhere beneath him after all. So he flared out his wings, catching the air currents with them like a parachute, and moments later landed gracefully at the very bottom of the pit.

When he looked up all he could see was darkness. But he was not afraid.

Keeping his wings out in case of a battle, Gabriel pulled his sword and held it tight as he ran down one of the many branching hallways in the bottom of the pit. It seemed as if every level had millions of crisscrossing tunnels, and at first Gabriel almost got lost trying to maneuver through them. But he was an archangel, and his grace was steady. So he searched out the only bright point in the darkness, the only thing besides himself sure to outshine the evil of the Fallen.

Sam Winchester's soul.

He found it easily, for it gleamed with an unwavering purity unknown to most humans – a light that many would long for but never understand. And at first Gabriel he was nearly taken aback by its absolute immaculacy. He'd never seen a soul so pure, so following it was no problem whatsoever. But when he found the room Sam had been locked away in, easily walking through the cell door like it was nothing, his gut twisted in pity and horror.

Sam sat huddled in a corner, arms around the knees he had pulled up to his chest. Grime and dust had settled in his unruly hair, and bruises and cuts littered the skin that Gabriel could see on his arms and neck. His shoulders shook with violent sobs, and he looked so small – so powerless and unassuming – that in that moment Gabriel remembered that he wasn't even eighteen years old yet. He was young, even by human standards.

"Sam Winchester," Gabriel murmured, stepping toward him.

Sam gasped, his head jerking up and his eyes widening as he saw the archangel. And then he was backing away, tears making tracks in the dirt on his face as he continued to sob uncontrollably. "S-stay away," he gasped. "Please, n-no more."

Gabriel felt his chest tighten and he had to pause as he realized the implications. They'd tortured him. This boy – this young human boy – had been tortured by the Fallen. And while he wasn't surprised, for it was their way after all, he was torn. He'd hoped that Sam would be spared that treatment. He'd hoped that he would be quick enough. But he hadn't been. He had failed, and now Sam would pay the price by being forced to remember the pain and fear he'd endured here for the rest of his life.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured. "I'm sorry I wasn't quicker, Sam."

Sam stared at him, eyes wide, and sudden recognition dawned on his face as he realized just who the angel standing in front of him was. ". . . _Gabriel?_"

Gabriel nodded. "I have come to save you, Sam Winchester."

Tears filled Sam's eyes once more and he took the hand Gabriel offered to him, staggering to his feet and then nearly collapsing on legs weak with a mixture of fear, relief, and exhaustion. But rather than saying anything Gabriel merely picked him up bridal-style and strode out of the cell. Sam clung to him like a lifeline, his arms around the archangel's neck, and it was in this style that Gabriel took off running. He dashed down the corridors, recalling the way from memory, and soon found himself in the open area of the pit that led to the surface.

"Hold on tight," he told Sam as he stretched out his wings to their full length, becoming aware of each and every feather. Then he crouched low and pushed himself off the ground, propelling them into the air with a mighty flap of his wings. The levels of the pit sped past them at a dizzying speed, and within moments they were out and back into the cool, clean air of the night. Below them the battle still raged with Balthazar, Jophiel, Anna, and Jo keeping their ground in the midst. But as Gabriel emerged from the pit the fighting paused and the Fallen cried out in anger as the Righteous and their allies rejoiced.

Knowing he could not linger, Gabriel quickly caught the currents of the updrafts in the wind, using them to go even higher. He left his fellows behind without guilt, assured of their victory due to the dwindling numbers of the Fallen he'd seen on the battlefield. They would be okay. Sam, however, needed immediate attention. So he flew as hard and fast as he could and headed for the Winchester's apartment.

"I didn't tell them anything . . ." Sam murmured suddenly, his voice muffled in Gabriel's shirt.

The archangel glanced down at him, confused. "What?"

"I didn't tell them anything," Sam repeated, looking up to catch Gabriel's gaze. "I did not give into their torture." His eyes filled with tears once more, and Gabriel's heart skipped a few beats. There was nothing he could do though, except tighten his hold on the young boy and fly ever faster. But a part of him deep down promised that he would never let anything like this happen to Sam ever again.

X X X

It was odd.

Castiel stared at the strange contraption on the counter, trying to figure out how to work it. For despite how long he'd studied humans and their culture, their strange mechanical toys were something he'd never really gotten the hang of. He fiddled it with a bit more and pressed a few buttons, jumping back as it beeped at him almost accusingly.

"What?" He demanded, holding his hands up in a peace-making gesture.

A sudden laugh from behind him made him turn to see Dean standing there, grinning. "What are you doing, Cas?"

The angel frowned and pointed at the machine. "What is that?"

"That's a coffee maker."

"And what does it do?"

"It makes coffee." Dean deadpanned.

Castiel frowned. "How?"

Dean's grin returned. "Here, let me show you." He sidled up next to Castiel and showed him how you added the water and the coffee grounds and then pressed the 'on' button, and then the machine began to click and whirr, and soon began to spit out an odd-looking brown liquid into the pot.

"Amazing," Castiel said breathlessly. "Where do you humans come up with these things?"

"Innovation."

Castiel smiled and Dean went to raid the pantry for something to eat, but a sudden gust of wind and the sound of fluttering wings stopped him in his tracks as he turned to see Gabriel standing in the middle of the living room; disheveled and dirty, but unharmed nonetheless. However Dean paid that fact no heed for all he saw was his brother, barely conscious in the archangel's arms.

"Sammy!" He gasped, rushing up to take his brother's hand. "Are you okay?"

"He's hurt," Gabriel said, "And exhausted. I need to lay him down somewhere."

Dean nodded and led the angel to Sam's bedroom, watching with worried eyes as Gabriel gently situated his brother on the bed. Castiel quickly appeared beside the eldest Winchester to serve as a pillar of support; silently vigilant.

"Will he be okay?" Dean asked. "What happened to him? And why is he hurt?"

Gabriel held up a hand to stop his questions and instead turned back to lay his hands on Sam's chest. For a moment it seemed as nothing was happening, then Sam suddenly tensed up, his fingers clenching at the sheets beneath him as his back arched, only to relax completely moments later and fall unconscious.

Dean stared. "What did you just do?"

"I healed him." Gabriel murmured, and sure enough as Dean watched the cuts and bruises he could see on his brother's skin healed up until there were only a few pink scars left in their place. "He's sleeping now," the archangel murmured. "We should let him."

Catching his drift, Dean led him and Castiel back into the living room, shutting the door in his wake. But as soon as they were out of Sam's earshot Dean turned on Gabriel, crossing his arms over his chest defiantly.

"What happened?"

Gabriel paused for a moment, his hazel-green eyes downcast, before he finally took a deep breath and said, "He was tortured."

Dean went very still, and Castiel stared at his brother in horror.

"The Fallen had him locked away in a seemingly-bottomless pit," Gabriel continued. "A hellhole I could hardly find my way through. And when I did finally get to Sam he was in a dark, cold cell, shivering and crying and – and they tortured him for information . . . information about the Righteous." He looked away, obviously repulsed by the very thought of such cruel torture, and for a split second Dean's vision went red.

All he wanted to do in that moment was hit Gabriel as hard as he could.

But he restrained himself, and after taking a few calming breaths he realized that it wasn't Gabriel's fault. No, it wasn't the fault of _any_ of the Righteous. The Fallen had captured Sam in a cowardly move, and there was nothing any of them could've done to prevent it . . . unless, of course, one of them had some sort of power to see into the future. But he doubted that.

"It wasn't your fault, Gabriel," Dean said out loud, wanting to reassure the archangel, for he looked so broken – so terribly disgusted with himself – that Dean couldn't bear it. "And I'm sure Sam agrees."

Gabriel gave him a small smile, reassured by the truth in his words.

"But I swear," Dean snarled, "I will kill every single one of those damned Fallen for what they did to my brother."

"Where are the others?" Castiel wondered suddenly. "You didn't go to battle alone."

Gabriel was about to reply, and that's exactly when Balthazar, Jo, Anna and Jophiel appeared in the room. Castiel's face cleared as he saw them, but as he noticed the way Balthazar leaned heavily on Jo with blood staining his shirt he rushed forward, terrified that his brother was wounded mortally.

"He's alright," Jo said, seeing the panic on his face. "It's not bad. Just a small wound."

Balthazar grinned up at him. "You won't get rid of me that easily, Cassie."

"What happened?" Gabriel asked.

"We won the battle," Jophiel replied. "It wasn't that big of a deal, there were just a lot of the Fallen all at once – and it was a bit overwhelming. But we're all okay."

Castiel smiled, "Good."

"But we need to return to Heaven." Balthazar said. "I can heal faster there, and Anna needs to talk to Michael."

"I'm coming too." Jo said.

Balthazar's eyes widened and he stared at her in shock. "Jo –"

"I'm coming." She said more forcefully, stubborn defiance in her tone.

Balthazar rolled his eyes and he nodded weakly, "Fine, whatever. You coming, Jophiel?"

"Give me a moment." The shorter angel replied.

Balthazar nodded, and then he, Anna, and Jo were gone in a gust of wind. Once they were alone there was a bit of an awkward silence as Dean stared at the unfamiliar Righteous standing next to Gabriel, wondering who the hell he was as he looked him up and down, taking in the angel's ice-blue eyes, shaggy blond hair, smaller wings, smaller form, and just all-around smallness.

_He's like one of those _Precious Moments_ angels or something._ Dean thought, and then he had to subsequently restrain the laughter that threatened to bubble up out of his mouth.

"What?" Jophiel asked nervously, responding to the sudden intense scrutiny by backing away a bit.

Dean shook his head and grinned, "Nothing." He held out his hand, "I'm Dean."

"Winchester, yes. I've heard of you." Jophiel smiled. "I'm Jophiel."

"Or as we like to call him, the most worrisome angel in the garrison," Gabriel quipped. "You never do stop worrying, do you, Jophy?"

Jophiel gave him an exasperated look.

Gabriel just grinned.

"Ah!" Jophiel exclaimed suddenly, "I almost forgot – I have something important to tell you, Gabriel. See, during the battle one of the Fallen I fought was boasting about something – some sort of large-scale attack they were planning. One aimed not at the Righteous, but at the humans."

Gabriel's eyes narrowed. "_What?_"

"They were planning to destroy the United States," Jophiel said softly, "And then all of North America, then South America, then Africa, Europa, Asia, and on down the line until the world was completely devoid of human life."

Castiel shook his head, "No, that has to be just a ploy."

"Do you really think that something like this would be beneath them?" Gabriel demanded. "After all they've done?"

"That's not what I'm saying . . ." Castiel trailed off, "It's just . . ."

"Ploy or not, I need to report it to Michael." Gabriel said stubbornly. "I'll go immediately. Cas, stay with the Winchesters." He saluted them all and then was gone. Prepared to follow the archangel, Jophiel flared out his wings, but Cas stopped him.

"Jophiel, I need a favor."

The smaller angel smiled, "Anything."

"Can you watch over Sam Winchester until he wakes up?" Castiel glanced at the door to the Sam's room. "I don't like leaving him alone, even if he's in the same apartment."

"Of course, brother."

Dean frowned as Jophiel disappeared into his brother's room, closing the door behind him. "I don't know about that, Cas. Can we trust him to actually watch over Sammy? What if he slacks off or falls asleep or something?"

Castiel chuckled, "Dean, didn't you hear what Gabriel said? He worries about everyone and everything and he never stops."

"But why?" Dean wondered.

"He's an empath. It's how he's always been." Castiel smiled, "Trust me, Dean. Your brother is in good hands."

Dean smiled and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "Only for you."


	15. Memory and Thought

**A/N: This is a really short chapter (barely 1,000 words! OTL) but there will be another on the way soon, so please excuse its brevity~**

* * *

><p>When at first Sam regained consciousness a sudden rash of panic overtook him as memories of torture, blood, and darkness cascaded down upon his senses. But then he opened his eyes to see a familiar ceiling above him, the fan spinning lazily as always, and vaguely registered the feeling of the soft mattress he was lying on and the feather pillow cradling his head. He also realized that the pain was gone – all of it. That continuous throbbing in his head that had been plaguing him for days, the sting of the open wounds on his back, even the ache of the many bruises he'd gathered. They were all gone.<p>

Confused he stared at the ceiling a bit longer, not really wanting to move. It felt nice to lay there for a moment. To just exist without having to think about the horror he'd experienced just hours before.

But how did he get back?

It hit him then. The memories of Gabriel, descending toward him from the darkness; wings seeming to glow with a holy aura as he took Sam in his arms and rescued him from the pit. The sound of the archangel's voice, telling him it was okay over and over and over again. The feel of the wind on his face and in his hair, lulling him into unconsciousness as Gabriel sped him home.

_. . . Gabriel . . ._

Sudden hushed voices from across the room caught his attention and he blinked, struggling to pull himself up out of the unconsciousness he'd been drowning in so he could clear his muddled mind. Even then, though, the conversation he heard didn't really make sense to him.

"You don't need to worry about everyone all the time, you know." That sounded like Gabriel's voice.

"Yes I do." A different voice this time, one Sam didn't recognize.

"I don't think I'll ever understand you, Jophy."

"I think we both already knew that."

Sam craned his neck, trying to see if it really was who he thought. And as he blinked the fuzziness from his vision he recognized the short archangel standing on the other side of his room, brilliant wings folded down on his back as he conversed with an even shorter angel who was unfamiliar to Sam. He was terribly short – as previously mentioned, for anyone shorter than Gabriel was practically a midget – with mussed, shoulder-length hair the color of sunlight and eyes as blue as the sea after a storm. He looked kind, though there was a certain odd expression in his ice-blue eyes that Sam couldn't really place.

"G-Gabriel?" He gasped, his voice coming out as more of a croak.

The archangel stiffened and turned to him, his eyes widening as he saw Sam awake. "Sam!" He rushed over to the youngest Winchester's side and perched anxiously on the mattress next to him, looking for all the world like a bird ready to take flight at the first sign of trouble. "How are you feeling?"

"A bit tired . . ." Sam admitted. "But . . . I think I'm good."

The worry in Gabriel's eyes softened. "Good."

"How long was I gone?" Sam asked suddenly. He'd sort of lost track of time while down there, for the minutes and hours and days had all just blurred into one long unrecognizable mass of fear and pain and the stench of blood and vomit. At the question, though, the storm clouds returned to Gabriel's hazel-green eyes.

"Almost a week."

Ah. Sam had expected it to be something along those lines. "And Dean?"

"He's fine. Worried sick about you, but fine."

Sam felt relief overcome him _because everyone was okay. _But at the same time it was counteracted by the darkness now accompanying his heart. The memories of what he'd gone through down in that pit; every slash, every stab, every cut, and every burn – he remembered it all.

"Jophiel," Gabriel said suddenly to the other angel, "Would you leave us a moment? Oh, and please tell Dean that Sam's awake."

The short angel nodded, giving Sam a quick smile as he left.

"Jophiel?" Sam wondered.

"A subordinate of mine, and a very dear friend," Gabriel replied. "But that's not important right now. What is important is that you tell me what you remember."

Sam flinched. "Do I have to?"

"I'm sorry, but yes." Gabriel looked sad. "It's very important."

Sam nodded then, for he trusted Gabriel. And if it was important, he'd tell him everything, right down to the last horrifying detail. But with each word that came out of his mouth Sam felt panic building up inside of him, pricking at his heart as he relived the torture and the tears and the pain of it all again. And as Sam told his story Gabriel simply sat by his side and listened. But at one point when Sam suddenly grabbed his hand in a knuckle-white grip, holding on as if it was the only thing anchoring him to sanity, Gabriel squeezed tighter and did not let go, letting the soothing calm from his grace leak from him and lull the young human back to reality.

_It's okay, Sam._

X X X

Dean came in later, after Gabriel emerged telling him that Sam was okay now, and sat by his brother's side. They were silent for a long time, neither feeling the need to talk, until Dean finally leaned forward and gently kissed Sam's forehead, ruffling his hair when he pulled back.

"I'm glad you're okay, Sammy." He'd said with tears in his eyes, and Sam had only smiled softly and nodded.

Afterwards, though, when Gabriel had left once more and Sam had fallen asleep with Jophiel there as protection, Dean spilled the truth of his fears to Castiel.

"I'm afraid for him."

Castiel glanced at Dean, frowning at the heavy look of guilt on the eldest Winchester's face. They were in Dean's room, lying side-by-side on the bed, and now Castiel turned over onto his side to better see Dean.

"Why?"

Dean shook his head. "He went through so much down there . . . I only know the basic gist, but according to Gabriel it was something that no one should _ever _have – have to go through." His voice cracked on the last word and he closed his eyes, trying to retain his calm outward appearance. "I should've been there for him, Cas. I should've saved him."

"Ssh, Dean," Castiel grabbed his hand, squeezing It comfortingly, "It's not your fault. No one saw that coming. And trust me; Sam is stronger than you think. He can handle this."

Dean nodded, "Thanks, Cas." He paused for a second as something suddenly resurfaced in his mind, "Hey, remember that thing Gabriel was going to report to Michael – what that Fallen said about them planning a large-scale attack?"

Castiel nodded. "Michael believes . . . he thinks there may be some truth to it."

"_What?_"

"I don't really think so, seeing how often our fallen kin are prone to lies. But Michael says it sounds like something they'd do, and they _have _been building their armies up lately which would also further support that, not to mention . . ." he trailed off, leaving an ominous feel in the room.

" . . . Not to mention?" Dean reiterated, urging him on.

Castiel sighed. "There's an old spell, Dean, a dark spell that's very powerful and is used to heighten the powers of a large group of people; in other words, an army. And it's been used many times in the past. You remember Alexander the Great – the vicious conqueror from your history books? He used this spell to strengthen his armies."

"Okay, but . . . I don't get where this is going," Dean admitted.

"Well see, Michael thinks that the kidnapping of your brother was some sort of indication that the Fallen were trying to harness the powers of this particular spell, especially since it is unusual behavior for them. The Fallen never capture humans – they just kill them on the spot."

"But what does this have to do with my brother?"

". . . I'll be honest, you won't like hearing this," Castiel said softly, "But the final stage of the spell requires the powers of a righteous soul. Basically, in order to complete it, they were going to sacrifice your brother."

Dean went very still.

"I think the only reason they kept him alive so long was just because they thought he might be able to give them information about us – the Righteous, I mean."

Dean looked murderous. "You mean to tell me, Cas, that those bastards were going to sacrifice my brother for some freak spell of theirs?"

Castiel nodded, "I'm afraid so."

For a moment, Dean didn't know what to do. He was shaking with anger, furious at the thought of Sam down in that pit, begging for mercy, only to be slaughtered for some stupid cause in some stupid war and _damn it_, did the Fallen have to take everything from him? Those black-winged sons of bitches had already killed his parents, but was that not enough? Did they have to take his brother too? Couldn't he just have some fucking peace and quiet in his life at least for a few days, or was that too much to ask?

"Dean?"

Snapping out of his trance, the eldest Winchester turned to find a pair of clear, sky-blue eyes staring back at him.

"I'm fine, sorry." Dean murmured. "I just got lost in my thoughts there for a second."

Castiel smiled, the gentle calm back in his gaze. "It's okay, Dean."

Dean smiled back, but he had the feeling Castiel was implying far more than he let on in the simple statement.

X X X

A sea of roiling night greeted Zephyr as he rose up to meet his Fallen warriors. Their black armor glistened in the moonlight, the earth shuddered at the stomping of their feet, and the wind around them whistled and howled with every flap of their black-feathered wings. The black sea before him calmed as Zephyr raised his hands, however, and silence descended upon them as he began to speak.

"My dear brothers and sisters," he called, "This is not the end! Our prey was taken from us, yes, and the spell was not completed, but do not fret! Our numbers are enough to take over any pathetic attempt at an army our self-righteous kin throw at us!" He smirked as his warriors cheered, letting their excitement die out before he continued. "We have nothing to fear from them and their petty human allies, my children. The outcome of the oncoming battle is obvious!" He threw his head back and raised his fiery sword into the air, letting it flash and spark, catching the attention of all who looked upon him. "Tonight we march to _victory!_"

The roar of his warriors crashed over him as the army rippled restlessly, one thousand fists raised in preparation for battle. They were ready to fight, preparing to launch their attack, steady in their assurance of victory.

In their eyes, they could not lose.


	16. Dust and Rain

It was raining.

Castiel had seen rain before of course, but something was different this time. Something was wrong, and it stirred anxiety in his gut. He glanced up at the sky, pushing himself his up on tip-toes to lean over the balcony, and blinked back droplets of water as they caught on his eyelashes.

_Something was wrong._

"Cas?"

The angel turned, wings quivering as if they wanted to shake off the water clinging to them, and smiled softly as he saw Dean stepping out of the apartment to join him. "Hello, Dean."

He didn't return to the smile. "What is it? You seem . . . nervous."

Castiel frowned, "I don't know, Dean. I just – I have a bad feeling."

Worry-filled, jade-green eyes stared back at him, narrowing in thought, before Dean turned away. "You're just overthinking things," he said, taking Castiel's hand. "Let's go back inside."

Wordlessly, Castiel followed the eldest Winchester, glowering at the rain-clouds overhead as he did and wondering what was going on up there. Had something happened in Heaven, perhaps? No, he'd know if it had. This was something else – something that was far away, and far too close.

And, just to give the anxiety he was feeling a reason to fester, Jophiel appeared suddenly as he and Dean entered the living room. The small, worrisome angel was shifting from foot-to-foot and he looked as distressed as Castiel felt.

"What's wrong?" Castiel asked.

Jophiel shook his head. "I don't know, Cas. But there's this odd feeling in the pit of my stomach – and I'm worried." 

"According to Gabriel, you're always worried." Dean deadpanned. "And why do you friggin' angels act like you can just drop in on us whenever you want? This isn't your apartment, you know."

Jophiel suddenly gave him a look reminiscent of Sammy's own trademark kicked-puppy expression, looking for all the world as if Dean had just slapped him across the cheek, and Dean blanched upon seeing it because _what the hell_, that wasn't fair. Why did people always pull stuff like that on him? He wasn't trying to be mean, damn it; he was just stating the facts. But Jophiel – Dean had started to unconsciously call him the _Precious Moments _angel in his head – was really pulling off that puppy-dog face well. And fuck, Dean already knew he couldn't resist Sammy using that look. So throw a tiny angel with pleading blue eyes and shaggy blond hair in and Dean was practically a puddle of goo.

"Oh, for the love of – okay, look. I'm sorry, that was a bit harsh." Dean relented. _Just stop giving me that damn look._

Jophiel smiled, "It's alright, Dean Winchester. No harm, no foul – right?"

Dean sighed. _Why do I put up with this?_

Suddenly Castiel's eyes widened. "Sam!"

Dean spun around, gasping as he saw his younger brother emerge from his room for the first time since he'd been rescued. "Sammy?"

Sam gave him a small smile, "Hey, Dean."

And instantly Dean felt better.

A sudden vicious pounding on their door made them all start, but before anyone could answer it Anna burst in, her red hair flaming as she spun toward Dean. "Turn on the news!" She exclaimed, eyes bright with excitement and promise.

Startled and unsure, Dean did as she asked. But what he saw was more than he could've ever hoped for. On the news were various reports of the organization known as the _Angel Allies _and how their numbers had grown to astonishing figures. Dean even glimpsed Jo being interviewed by one of the reporters as the leader and founder of the Angel Allies, telling how everything they'd presumed to be true up until then had been wrong, and how they needed to band together to help the Righteous defeat the Fallen.

And, to Dean's surprise, everyone around her cheered their consent.

Sam smiled, looking like he felt much better. "So things are turning up after all." He murmured.

Dean nodded, "Yeah."

But Castiel, who stood off to the side just behind Dean, did not share their enthusiastic optimism. He could still feel that twisting, churning feeling in the bottom of his stomach. And when he glanced at Jophiel he could tell that the smaller angel still felt it too, for he was watching the news with an oddly apprehensive look in his eyes, and he did not smile.

"Castiel."

The blue-eyed angel turned, frowning as he saw Balthazar standing there, his gray eyes bearing bad news.

_Something is wrong._

"Balthazar!" Dean gasped, "When did you -?"

"Just now," Balthazar cut him off, not breaking eye contact with Castiel. "You're not going to like this, brother."

"No," Cas agreed, "But I was expecting it."

X X X

The Righteous stood side-by-side, their own silver armor a stark contrast to the midnight-hued battle attire the Fallen had donned. A mere few meters of space separated them in the large field they faced each other on, and everything – even the wind – had gone completely and utterly still. Perpetiel, the Angel of Success, stood at the front of the army of Righteous as their acting commander during Michael's absence, brandishing his silvery sword and standing tall before the sea of darkness that raged in front of him.

Today was the day they went to war.

Feet stomping, mouths open, shouting insults, air stinking with sweat and dirt, the army of Fallen was the exact opposite of the calm, steady Righteous warriors decked out in silver. And they were proud of that fact. They wanted nothing to do with their ridiculous, conceited kin. Damn them all.

The leader of the Fallen, Zephyr, stepped forward just as Perpetiel had, taking his place at the head of the army. And then just as the clock struck midnight he raised his flaming sword, and so the Fallen charged. However the Righteous did not move as the black horde rushed toward them. Instead they stood their ground, awaiting their orders. And it was not until the very last moment that Perpetiel raised his own sword above his head, causing the Righteous to surge forward in a great show of power.

The armies clashed together with a deafening sound and a shake of the earth beneath their feet, but the Righteous did not shout or give a battle cry as their Fallen brothers and sisters had, instead they went to war stoically, determined to win. And while the Fallen enjoyed every cut and slice they dealt out, the Righteous – ever the opposite of the other – wished for nothing more than it to be over.

_All wars are civil wars, because all men are brothers._

But as the battle continued it began to lean more toward the Fallen who, spurred on by their hatred, had the ability to last longer. Perpetiel noticed the shift in atmosphere and resolved to change it back in favor of the Righteous, but just as he prepared to, Michael appeared, reliving him of his position with a short bow.

"You've done well, Perpetiel."

The angel stood in awe before his leader, watching as Michael spread his wings, commanding the attention of Righteous and urging them on with his aura of power, assuring them that they could not lose. And so they regained their vigor, fighting back with force because they had to win. Because they had hope.

But Michael knew that all the hope in the world would not be enough in the end. The Fallen's numbers were too much. They needed something else besides hope, something that could help them overcome their Fallen kin's army. And they needed it soon.

_Where are you, my allies?_


	17. Weapons and Warfare

**A/N: omg so I seriously cannot believe it's taken me this long to update OTL accept my sincerest apologies. As it is, I only have about 2-3 chapters left of this story. So I'll get it done quickly, I _promise._**

* * *

><p>Castiel stared at the spot Balthazar had occupied mere moments before, a heavy frown creasing the lines on his forehead. He'd been waiting for something like this to happen, just not this soon. To be honest, Castiel had been hoping – naively, it seemed – that they'd have a little more time before the Fallen had gathered for their final strike. But sadly he could not control time or space or the choices others made.<p>

"It's begun already?" Dean gasped, looking just as startled and horrified as Castiel felt.

Castiel nodded. "The battle is in the same field the pit was in. The Fallen have started to move and, unless we can stop them, they will force the world to its knees."

"Then what can we do to help?" Sam asked, "Anything, Cas. I don't care what."

"Neither do I." Dean agreed. "We just want to _do_ something."

Castiel gave them a small smile. "Thank you both. Your cooperation will be much needed."

Anna filled the sudden silence by stepping forward, "I'm going to go help Jo round up the Angel Allies for battle, you know, since Balthazar was summoned to battle."

"I'll go too." Jophiel offered.

"Dean and I have something else to do." Castiel said, "We need to gather weapons that can kill the Fallen – whether it's our own swords or those angel-killers humans created – so we can arm the Allies."

Anna nodded. "Good idea."

"What do I do?" Sam wondered.

Gabriel suddenly appeared, grinning at the younger Winchester as he cut Castiel's would-be reply off with one of his own. "You'll be coming with me, Sammy." He said a matter-of-factly. "We have to go rally as many more humans to our cause as we can, because while numbers are not everything, they sure do help."

Sam nodded determinedly. "Okay."

"Good, then we all have our assignments." Castiel glanced at each of them in turn. "Time is short, so let us be swift!" So saying, the blue-eyed angel grabbed Dean's hand – to which the human grinned, pleased – and disappeared on the wind. Anna and Jophiel left next, saluting Gabriel mockingly as they went to help Jo and the Angel Allies. And suddenly Gabriel and Sam were alone. For a moment all was silent, and then Sam shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, clearing his throat.

"Uh, Gabriel?"

"Yes?"

"Shouldn't – uh, shouldn't we get going?"

The archangel glanced at him, one eyebrow raised questioningly. "Are you afraid?"

Sam's eyes widened at the sudden question and he quickly glanced down at his feet, still shifting nervously. "Yes, of course I am." He said softly. "I'm only seventeen and I'm about to go to battle against a large group of fallen angels who, by the way, happened to be the very creatures that killed my parents three years ago and imprisoned me in a dark, bottomless pit for nearly a week – so yeah, I'm a bit nervous."

"And yet you'll still go?"

"Of course," Sam said, as if it were obvious.

Gabriel smiled, his eyes twinkling. "And that, Sam, is true courage; the ability to stand up and do something despite the fear that's currently twisting your stomach into knots."

Sam lowered his eyes again, embarrassed, but Gabriel put a finger under his chin and raised it back up so they could see eye-to-eye (or, eye-to-forehead since Sam was so much taller than Gabriel, after all.)

"You are a remarkable human being, Sam." The archangel murmured, putting a hand on the human's shoulder and guiding him back until he was stopped by the wall just behind him. Sam stared at him with wide-eyes, confused and slightly afraid at Gabriel's close proximity, and watched warily as the shorter man leaned even closer. Just as he did there was a moment – a fleeting skip of the heart – when Sam finally understood what Gabriel was planning, but before he could do or say anything the distance between them was gone and their lips met.

Sam gasped into Gabriel's mouth, taken completely off-guard, and felt his eyes unconsciously start to flutter shut as he was pressed further back against the wall. Fingers tangled in his hair, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, and a soft moan was torn from his throat as Gabriel – though considerably shorter, as mentioned previously – dominated him. Sam felt his chest constrict with excitement, his body sagging as he gave in, for he could not resist.

Especially not when it came to Gabriel, it seemed.

Finally they pulled apart; breathing hard and faces flushed as they stared at each other, both wide-eyed like they'd been struck with some sort of revelation. Then Gabriel smiled suddenly, his eyes twinkling.

"Like I said," he murmured, reaching up to stroke Sam's cheek with his thumb, "_Remarkable_."

X X X

They were losing.

The Righteous had fallen back, tending to their wounded as Michael and the other archangels tried to devise a plan, and still the Fallen continued to surge forward. The front line of Righteous was weakening; splits were showing in their previously impregnable line of warriors, and as Michael watched his angels toppled one-by-one, like a parade of dominos destined to fall.

Something had to be done.

Perpetiel appeared beside him then, soaked in blood but smiling nonetheless, and Michael's heart lifted, for he knew that it had to be good news in order for his commander to be smiling like that.

"What is it?" He gasped, desperate.

"The Angel Allies have arrived."

A great cry went up suddenly, affirming Perpetiel's words, and Michael looked up with a start, his eyes widening as he saw a sudden large crowd of humans joining them on the battlefield led by none other than Castiel, Dean, and Sam. His heart light with newfound hope, Michael grinned and turned back to watch as the Fallen hesitated in their onslaught, obviously taken off-guard by the large army joining the Righteous. But that hesitation lasted only a moment as they realized they were not angels, but humans.

However, they should've learned by then to never underestimate humans.

Empowered by the help they were receiving, despite how unprecedented it was, the Righteous charged back into battle; eyes shining with hope, wings flared to their full lengths, swords drawn and glistening with energy as they bore down on the Fallen. The ensuing fight was brutal. The Fallen, having severely belittled the abilities of the humans, were driven back by the vigorous attacks of Righteous and human alike. And soon they were falling back more and more, stripped of their assuredness as their kin died beside them.

Zephyr, knowing a lost cause when he saw one, turned to flee but instead found himself face-to-face with Michael.

"I forgive you, brother," Michael murmured before he had a chance to react. "And I am sorry."

Zephyr sneered, prepared to Michael's forgiveness back in his self-righteous face, but ended up choking on the words as a sudden searing pain burned through his torso. Looking down he found himself fascinated with the sight of Michael's sword driven through his stomach, sparkling in the light of the rising sun. And then, with a gasping sigh, he fell.

Michael's wings drooped. ". . . _I'm sorry_."

And so the battle was over.

The remaining Fallen had fled, more loyal to their own needs then they were to their kin, and the Righteous found themselves searching out the warriors and friends who'd died on the field that day, feeling defeated despite the victory they'd claimed.

"Dean!"

The eldest Winchester turned at the call, his eyes widening as Castiel ran up to him, coat spattered with blood. "Cas! Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine. But Dean, I cannot find Balthazar."

An icy hand gripped at Dean's heart at the thought of the snarky angel lying in the field somewhere, injured or worse. He could see the worry in Castiel's eyes. "Come on then, I'll help you look for him. Sammy!"

His brother turned from where he'd been bending over one of the Fallen, eyes wide.

"Help us search for Balthazar!"

Sam nodded and dashed off without a word, checking everywhere he could. Dean and Castiel spread out as well, searching with haste. But there were bodies everywhere. Castiel grew more anxious by the minute, worried that he could not feel his brother's grace in the air. As he moved closer to the center of the field, however, he felt it suddenly. Balthazar's grace – weak, but there, just on the edge of his consciousness.

"Balthazar . . ." Castiel gasped, running toward the scent. Dean, seeing him run off suddenly, followed close behind. But what they found was not what they'd hoped for. Just a few yards away from the edge of the Fallen's bottomless pit, Balthazar lay on the ground in a pool of blood that was steadily growing, holding a hand to his chest to try and staunch the wound that was causing the massive bleed. Castiel froze, blue eyes wide with anguish, before falling to his knees beside his brother.

"No, no, no . . . hey – _hey_, can you hear me?" Castiel gasped, "Listen, you're going to be okay, alright? We're going to get you patched up and it'll all be okay."

Balthazar chuckled, coughing up blood as he did, "Now, now, Cassie. We – we both know that isn't true, don't we?" He gasped, his eyes fluttering shut.

"No, come on, Balthazar. Stay with me!" Castiel gasped, his eyes filling with tears as his brother went limp beneath him. "_Balthazar!_"


	18. Courage and Hope

**[A/N:] This took a bit longer than I meant it to, and the reason for that was . . . well, there was an unexpected death in the family last week. So, yeah. I haven't really written much of anything in the past few days. But, I finally got myself to finish this, and I feel better now that I have. Also, I hope you all enjoy the ending, even if it is a bit cheesy~ ^^"**

* * *

><p>Dean didn't know what to do.<p>

All that he'd accomplished for the Righteous up to this point – for Sam and Cas and his friends – seemed practically pointless in the face of this cold, terrible reality. And even though they'd won, to Dean it felt like they'd lost, because Balthazar was dying and there was nothing he could do.

Sam had joined them at some point, putting a hand on his older brother's shoulder for comfort, but it did nothing. Dean was frozen, shocked and repulsed, and as he watched Castiel cradle his dying brother's limp head in his lap he felt a sort of numbness spill into him. He couldn't do anything. He was useless, helpless, and hopeless. The world suddenly felt as if it meant nothing, and an oppressive feeling strangled him, sending darkness to seep into the corners of his vision.

"_Balthazar . . ._" Castiel gasped out, his voice full of unfathomable sorrow.

And Dean could do nothing.

"Dean!"

He didn't know whose voice that was, but it didn't matter. He did not respond. He didn't want to. There was nothing he could do anyway. He was pointless.

"Dean, _look!_"

_Sammy . . ._

Snapped out of his stupor by his brother, Dean looked got ahold of himself. He now realized that he needed to be there and be strong for Sam and Castiel, for it had always been that way. He would be there as a pillar of support; unmoving, unbreakable, and stubborn as stone.

But then he suddenly noticed what Sam was pointing at.

An angel, one he'd never seen before, was coming toward them, eyes downcast and wings pure as the clouds against a blue summer sky even as he radiated an aura unlike anything Dean had ever felt. The angel knelt down next to Castiel, who stared at him in awe and shock, and placed his hands on Balthazar's chest. There was nothing for a moment, just silence as everyone seemed to hold their breath, and then the unfamiliar angel pulled away and smiled, his expression lifting.

"He will live."

Dean's heart got caught in his throat. _What?_

"Thank you," Castiel said breathlessly, eyes wide and sparkling with gratitude. "I can never thank you enough."

Sam looked unsure, "Who are you?" He asked hoarsely.

"I am Raphael, the Angel of Healing." He replied, giving him a soft smile. Then without warning he turned and winked at Dean, grinning as if they shared some special secret, and disappeared before their eyes.

After a stunned silence in which Dean had to remind himself to keep breathing, Castiel sniffed and wiped the tears from his face. He looked different suddenly, his eyes especially, for their cerulean depths were filled with courage and hope that hadn't been there previously. And when Balthazar stirred, his eyes finally flicking open to meet Castiel's, a joy as radiant as the sun spread across his face at the sight of his brother – alive and well.

"Balthazar . . ." He gasped.

The angel looked extremely surprised that he was still alive. "Wh-what happened?"

"Raphael," Castiel sobbed, "I-it was Raphael."

No one seemed to know what to say. Sort of numb with shock, and the odd strain that had been placed on his already shredded nerves, it was all Dean could do just to help Cas pull Balthazar to his feet. The gray-eyed angel was still a bit wobbly at the knees, but he was alive. And that was all that mattered. There was no mistaking the cautious relief in Castiel's expression, or the smile on Sam's face, or the pride Michael showed just from the look in his eyes. And Dean finally relaxed as he realized this was real – it wasn't some big cosmic joke or anything. It was _real._

After that, things were relatively simple.

Balthazar, still too weak to do more than stand, was entrusted to Jophiel, who promised to take him back to Heaven to recover more fully. And then together, with Dean, Sam, and the rest of the Angel Allies, the Righteous chased down the last of the Fallen. It didn't take long with so few of them left, and by the end of the day the battle – and the war – was over. And while there were still Fallen left, clinging to the shadows of the world, they were a mere fair few that could easily be taken care of.

And so, all was well.

X X X

**One week later . . .**

"_- And so this group, calling themselves the _Angel Allies_, proved that there was more to this story than met the eye. And apparently these white-winged Righteous angels have been named as protectors of the peace and warriors of justice while their kin, the black-winged Fallen angels, are said to be enemies of humanity; though this does make since after all, especially since they were the instigators of what we came to know as the angel raids. And while the last few years have been horrifying, to say the least, perhaps with these Fallen out of the way and the Righteous back in town, we can finally start to heal . . ."_

"Looks like everyone is accepting it well," Castiel commented lightly, leaning his head on Dean's shoulder as he did. "I mean, I'd always hoped something like this could come true, but after all that's happened in the last three years . . ."

Dean grinned. "Humans are capable of more than you think, Cas."

"It does seem we underestimated you."

Suddenly Gabriel appeared in front of them, wings fluttering excitedly. "Where's Sam!" He gasped, practically jumping up and down from exhilaration. "I have to show him something!"

Dean stared. "U-uh, in his room."

"Great! Thanks!" Gabriel ran off, leaving Dean and Cas to stare after him in amazement. Then Castiel suddenly chuckled.

"I think your house has become a sort of permanent residence for us, Dean."

Dean sighed heavily. "I think that was true even before the end of the war, Cas."

As if proving his statement, Balthazar appeared just then, throwing his arms around Castiel's neck and hugging him close. "Hello, Cas." He said in a droll voice, "Thought I'd drop by and check in on the Husband."

Castiel blushed heavily. "We're not –"

"Oh, I know." Balthazar interrupted. "But we're all expecting a happy announcement by the end of the week, at the very least. So there's no need to be embarrassed, Cassie!" Then with that he was gone, flitting off to who-knows-where, only to be replaced by Jophiel who collapsed onto the couch, breathing heavily.

Dean glared at him. "What're you doing?"

"Resting," Jophiel said.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious."

"You asked."

Castiel rolled his eyes. "Jophy, you've been spending far too much time with Gabriel again, haven't you?"

Jophiel sat up suddenly, eyes twinkling. "Oh, hey! Gabe showed me this thing humans have called 'the internet', Cas. And guess what? It's amazing! And you can go on there and read stuff and watch human movies – some of the human movies are weird, though. There's even fornication in some!"

Dean went rigid.

"Fornication?" Castiel echoed.

Jophiel nodded. "They're on these weird websites, too! They have all these pictures and stuff on the sides, and it's really quite amusing, to be honest."

"_Gabriel!_" Dean exploded suddenly. "_Don't go showing off fucking porn to the entirety of Heaven!_"

The archangel stuck his head out of Sam's room, "Why not?"

"What did you do?" Sam's accusatory tone floated out from behind him.

Gabriel grinned at Sam before glancing back to Dean. "It's not like they don't see sex all the time anyway, Dean. You humans do little else for us to watch – either you're making love or making war." Then he slammed the door back into place, leaving Dean seething on his seat.

"Don't worry about it," Castiel murmured flippantly. "It's not anything new to us."

"Wait," Dean suddenly paled, "If they watch humans when they're having sex, then . . . does that mean they saw – does that mean they saw . . . _us?_"

"No, of course not!" Castiel shook his head quickly. "I cloak us so no one can peek." He blushed. "I – uh, didn't really want my bosses seeing stuff like that if they tried to call on me."

"Oh." Dean relaxed. "Good."

The door to their apartment suddenly opened and Anna strode in without even a wayward glance at Dean, heading straight for the kitchen. "Got any beer?" She queried as she opened the fridge and peered inside.

Dean just sighed. "I guess you were right, Cas."

"About what?"

"This house really has become a permanent residence for you guys. It's like you practically live here, because you're here all the time anyway." He paused a moment, green eyes thinking, "But to be honest, I like it better this way."

Castiel smiled softly and gave him a quick peck on the lips. "Me too."

THE END


End file.
